


In The Pink: Katherine's Story

by Kinkie_Pie



Category: Just a Little Lovin'
Genre: BDSM, Death, F/F, F/M, HIV/AIDS, LARP, M/M, Multi, Public Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 48
Words: 31,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinkie_Pie/pseuds/Kinkie_Pie
Summary: Katherine is a go-getter, in both her career and in her personal life. Confident, arrogant, and wealthy; there isn't much she can't achieve when she puts her mind to it. But what will happen when she realizes that death is the one thing beyond her control?Desire. Fear of Death. Friendship.There are hundreds of stories at Mr. T's party. This one is Katherine's.





	1. Why I Wrote This Blog

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Just A Little Lovin'](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/332052) by Tor Kjetil Edlund and Hanne Grasmo. 



> Also published at savvyseductress.wordpress.com

I'm a gamer. I like some board games, but I mostly do tabletop role play and LARP (Live Action Role Play). There are many, many different kinds of games out there, in a huge range from extremely silly to extremely serious. I generally tend to prefer the serious ones (which are more akin to improv acting than to “playing a game”), because they give me a chance to explore situations and emotions in a safe environment. Every time I play one, I learn a little bit more about my friends and about myself.

Writing always helps me to sort out my feelings. I started this document a few days after JaLL, when my thoughts were still pretty scattered, and I was feeling disassociated from the real world. At the time, I wasn’t really sure what was going to come out. What I’ve ended up with is a 60 page memorial outlining my experiences as both character and player. The reason for this is threefold:

  1. My memories won’t always be as vivid ad they are right after the game, and I like knowing that I can go back and relive the experience by reading my own thoughts and feelings about it.
  2. I’ve loved reading the stories of other JaLL participants; of living some of the same scenes I experiences through their eyes, and of hearing about stories I had no idea were happening. I’m hoping my feller JaLLers will enjoy mine just as much.
  3. I have a lot of trouble describing JaLL to people who haven’t experienced it. More specifically, it is indescribable to people who haven’t experienced or even heard of Nordic style LARPing, and this will give me a chance to explain how and why “re-enacting the AIDS crisis of the 1980’s” was such a genuinely fulfilling experience.



In addition to telling my character’s story, I will also be explaining some of the game mechanics. In addition to explaining what a Black Box scene is and how we used feathers to represent certain aspects, there will be spoilers re: the Lottery of Death. Interspersed into the character’s first-person narrative, I will be adding the thoughts that I had as a player. Afterwards, I will go into the debrief and some of my feelings post-game.


	2. Pre-Game

Usually, the games I play can last anywhere from two to eight hours, depending on the game. Before JaLL, I’d never done a long-form immersive game before: the longest game I’ve played was probably about six and a half hours, with a “short” debrief turning into a two-hour long session in which we had to tear ourselves from the hotel conference room. (For those interested, it was Emily Care Boss’  _[Under My Skin](http://www.blackgreengames.com/shop/under-my-skin-pdf)_  played at [Double Exposure](https://www.dexposure.com/)‘s Dreamation 2012, and it was my first-ever [Jeepform](http://jeepen.org/dict/) game. Ever since then, I’ve been hooked!)

I’d been looking forward to JaLL a lot. I’ve played the shorter version called  _[I Say A Little Prayer](http://download.alexandria.dk/files/scenario/3819/I%20Say%20a%20Little%20Prayer.pdf)_  twice, which is about six hours long and has five characters. ISALP is a pretty powerful game, so I suspected that JaLL, which is three days and roughly 50 people, would be about a hundred times more intense. (Spoiler alert: it was.) But in the weeks leading up to it, I was pretty stressed out: I had a lot going on leading up to the game. I’d been anxious about a lot of things related to the [weekly dance event](http://bluesdancenewyork.com/friday-night-blues/) that I run. I didn’t have enough time to get done all of the things I wanted to get done before leaving (story of my life). I was worried about not having costumes that were “right” or “good enough.” And I’d finally admitted to myself that I have issues with anxiety and that I was in the midst of a depression that was spiraling ever downwards, and got on anti-depressants for the first time in my life. (I’ve struggled with depression before, but have never before taken meds for it – but that is another story entirely.) Plus, I kept telling myself that I would soon spend a weekend reading all of the articles and watching all of the movies that were getting posted in the JaLL US private Facebook group, and memorizing my character sheet, in order to “get ready” for the game and make sure that I could play my character “right.” That never happened, and so I was nervous that I was screw up and ruin the game for others. I knew  _logically_  that would not happen, but anxiety is not a logical animal. Luckily, my friend Avie soothed me some by telling me about her experience playing in  _[Mad About The Boy](http://mad-about-the-boy-larp.blogspot.no/p/the-larp.html)_  (another long-form LARP which is based on the book “Y The Last Man”): that it’s not worth trying to “know” my character, because the workshops in the beginning are what make everything start to gel together. And she was right.

When Rachael and I arrived at the pickup site on Monday morning for the private bus that was to take us to the campsite, I was excited to see friends who live far away that I don’t often get to spend time with. But I was also anxious: there were a  _lot_  of new people, and I was feeling anxious. Rachael and I sat together on the bus, and when we got to the campsite, I stood in the shade of a tree while everyone else registered and found their cabins. 1) I saw no reason to stand on line in the sun when I knew that I was guaranteed a cabin, 2) I wasn’t in any rush, and 3) I felt super awkward, for no particular reason.

When I finally went to check in and get my cabin assignment, I was pleasantly surprised to find the cabins were  _much_  nicer than what I was expecting. My only other cabin camping experience has been at [Camp Nerdly](http://www.campnerdly.org/) in Virginia, and… well, let’s just say that as the bus pulled up, I exclaimed, “Holy crap – those cabins have  _glass windows!_ ” Yes, I’m easily impressed. (Also, thank you Brand, for allowing me a bottom bunk. My plantar fasciitis thanks you, too.)

After claiming my territory, I was finally ready to go out and start meeting people. We all met back at the main lodge for some workshopping. Each character had connections to two groups: a social circle and a core group. In real life, your “social circle” would be your acquaintances and people you hang out with, and your “core group” would be your lover(s) and/or best friends. What stands out to me here is when my core group got together and started talking about our characters and our connections to each other. Within about thirty seconds, we’d decided what the main relationships for each of us were. I loved that way we worked together, and I loved that people seemed to be enthusiastic about my contributions. I was immediately comfortable with the people in my group, both mentally and physically. That was the moment in which I thought, “Avie was right!” For the rest of Monday afternoon we did some more workshopping that helped us become more comfortable with our characters and with each other, then had dinner and free time until the next morning. There was an informal dance class where a few of us learned some basic hustle (thanks, Ashleigh!), and then I shuffled off the bed.

Tuesday morning included more workshopping, and the in-game mechanics were explained. After lunch we had about two hours of free time to rest and get in costume, and then the game would begin.


	3. Game Mechanics

There are several mechanics in the game that allow for characters to have sex without the players doing so. The basic rules are that if your characters are having sex, then the players must be fully clothed. And there is no genital contact. Aside from that, anything goes.

 _Pink Feathers:  
_ To solicit sex with another character, you offer them a pink feather. If they refuse the feather, you continue role playing as though the solicitation never happened in-game (unless you both agree that the rejection happened in character). If they accept the feather, you then walk off and have a conversation out-of-character (OOC) and ask, “How do you want to play this?” You both then discuss the details of the scene: what you want the characters to be doing physically, and what you want to get out of the scene. (For example, “Let’s go for a quickie in the bathroom – but I want you to be surprised as how tender I can be.”) Once you’ve agreed on what is going to happen in play, you then discuss your physical boundaries as players. (For example, Person A might say, “I’d really like to make out with you and lay on top of you.” Person B might say, “I’m not really comfortable with making out for real, but you can lay on top of me.”) Then, you have your scene, simulating the sexual encounter that you’ve just discussed.

 _Phalluses:  
_ To signal to other players that you are having sex you must be holding a phallus in some way, even if you’re not using it as such – it’s the early 80’s, so semi-public clandestine sex is the norm here. Your  _character_ might not want others to see, but you as a  _player_ probably do! (I realize as I’m describing it here that it sounds cheesy and strange and awkward, but just trust me on this – it worked.)

 _Black Box Scenes (Blue Feathers and Black Feathers):  
_ A “black box” scene takes place in a specifically designated area of the camp, and exists outside the time and space of the campground. (Everything else that happens on the campground, happens in the fiction.) These scenes can help you to know more about your character. If you hand a  _black_ feather to another player, this invites them to take on the role of a different character for the duration of that scene. (For example, you might want to play out what happened when you came out to your parents. In this case, you would hand a black feather to two players and explain the scene you want to play out, and the role you’d like them to take.) Or, you might want to play out a black box scene of something that happened in the past (or future, even) with a current character. In this case, you would hand them a BLUE feather, which means “I want to play a black box scene with your specific character.” (For example, if it is well-known that you are Eric’s ex, but no one really knows why, you might hand the person who is playing Eric a blue feather and explain that you want to have a black box scene from six years ago when you first broke up.)

 _Bleed:_  
“Bleed” is a concept that I learned about when I started playing freeform games. Put simply, when your own thoughts, experiences, and emotions influence the character that you are playing, it’s referred to as “bleeding in.” When your the thoughts, experiences, and emotions of the character that you are playing influence you as a person, it’s referred to as “bleeding out.” More commonly, you might hear the phrase “I had a lot of bleed” to encompass both. You can read more of what people are saying about bleed in [Sarah Lynn Bowman’s article about it on nordiclarp.org](https://nordiclarp.org/2015/03/02/bleed-the-spillover-between-player-and-character).


	4. Meet Katherine

The game is set at a campsite in Saratoga Springs, NY. In-game time was from 5pm until 11am on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Each day of play represents a 4th of July party in 1982, 1983, and 1984. (The game timeline is skewed to represent actual events that happened throughout the whole of the 80s.) There are two separate events happening: Mr T’s Big Gay 4th of July Party, and a gathering of the Saratoga Pact, a group of cancer survivors who meet there every year to renew their vows to remain friends. Up until now the groups have remained separate, but in the past few years the two groups have gotten used to each other’s presence and have begun to mingle.

The campground itself consisted of 10 cabins. There was one regular-sized cabin at the entrance to the campsite, which served as a staff cabin and was the location of one of the Black Box rooms. There was the large main cabin/mess hall with lots of tables and chairs where we had both OOC meetings and in-character meals prepped by the staff of the fictional Pepper’s Diner. The main lodge is also where a huge metal rig was set up from which we hung silver sequined curtains, a disco ball, strobe lights, and other colored lights for the drag shows and the disco.

A little further into the campground were four regular-sized cabins (each of which held 8 bunk beds) on each side of a grassy field with some twisty paths in between. (And of course, there was a large cabin full of shower stalls and toilets.) Six of the regular-sized cabins were used as sleeping cabins. One of the remaining two cabins was called The Darkroom, which was a men-only BDSM space. It had all sorts of BDSM paraphernalia strewn about, and had a constant stream of gay porn playing on a laptop (or projected onto a wall in the fiction, I think?). And the last cabin was called the Pillow Room, in which the bunk beds were all pushed up against the walls and the mattresses removed and strewn all over the floor, covered with blankets and pillows. The light bulbs were replaced with soft red bulbs, and there were lava lamps in the windows.

So… meet Katherine. She’s a lesbian who is currently in her thirties. Both of her parents died when she was a child, so she and her little brother Artie were raised by their grandmother in an apartment on the Upper West Side overlooking Central Park… though in actuality, they were raised by a string of nannies. Grandma Georgina was the widow of a wealthy banker, and they never wanted for anything financially. Growing up, Katherine and Artie were constantly meeting people who were considered important and powerful. After high school, Katherine went to NYU for journalism and quickly rose to became the editor for The City section of the New York Times, while Artie went to Harvard and eventually became the host of his own radio show.

One of the things that stood out to me from my character sheet was, “A girl like you can’t be at a party like this without deciding on someone to flirt with and maybe hit on for the night. Who will it be? Somebody you know well or some interesting woman you have yet to get to know?” I decided that Katherine was very promiscuous and sort of a “huntress” of lovers. She’s very femme and oozes confidence and sex. But she is only femme in the way that she looks – her personality is at times quite butch, which both startles and thrills people.

Katherine’s inner circle consists of three other lesbians: Charlotte, Santiago, and Kimberly. In the workshops, we established that Katherine and Santiago have an on-again, off-again kind of relationship. They’re close friends regardless of whether or not they’re having sex, which they currently are not since Santiago is in a relationship with Pen, Mr T’s secretary. Charlotte is Mr T’s lawyer and Katherine’s best friend. The two have known each other for a long time, and they tell each other everything. They love each other, but there is no romantic energy here whatsoever. Kimberly is Charlotte’s newest girlfriend. They’ve been together for a while now, and have recently recently announced their plans to have a baby. Katherine suspects that Kimberly is keeping some secrets, but keeps quiet about her suspicions out of respect for Charlotte (and lack of proof). She _hopes_ that she’s wrong; she wants Charlotte to be happy. We jokingly – okay, not really joking – refer to ourselves as the “lesbian nucleus.” We all have the kind of close friendships with each other that almost resemble siblings: rife with drama on the inside, but will protect each other fiercely if an outsider threatens any of us.

Katherine’s social circle is called Pink Dollars, a group of six wealthy and influential queer folk in NYC who invite each other to social gatherings and discreetly help each other out when necessary. Other members of Pink Dollars include Sinclair Everett, a married and closeted politician; Ruben McHallow, the owner of a successful communications company; Ike, Ruben’s boyfriend who also works for him as a designer; Bruce, a stock broker; and Mr Terrence Thurlow, the owner of an advertising agency, and who is known to the public only as Mr T.

The game begins with everyone frozen in place while the song [Just A Little Lovin’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uz3znHG70dk) by Dusty Springfield plays. Then, we raise the American flag while we listen to Dolly Parton singing the [Star Spangled Banner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fOWXs8t5wY). Many people sang along. (Honestly, it wasn’t until the second day that I realized everyone else had saluted the flag by placing their right hands over their hearts. I haven’t saluted the flag since about third grade or so, so it didn’t even dawn on me that I should. Thus is my dedication to the game that I did so!) Once the song was over, Mr T welcomed everyone to the party, and the game began.

In some ways, my heart hasn’t quite left that campground in MN. There are some scenes that will be burned into my memory forever. In other ways, pieces of the game have already faded from my mind. I will try to piece together what I  _do_  remember, hopefully in the right order.


	5. Why I Wrote This Blog

I stand in a cluster with Santiago, Charlotte, and Kimberly, looking around as the opening ceremonies begin. As per usual, people have gathered into their little cliques. But last year, people had started to mingle more. Not only the usual cliques, but Terrence’s crowd and the Saratoga hippies had also begun to mix as we became more comfortable with each other. I survey the crowd and wonder what kind of trouble I should get up to first. As Dolly croons the last few notes of the Star Spangled banner, Terrence hands an American flag to Steven, one of the leather daddies, who mounts it to the flagpole.

As the flag rises up to sway in the breeze, Terrence greets us. “Welcome back to the party everyone! And thanks for coming out this year! I don’t know all of you nearly as well as I should, but I’m sure we’ll fix that before the end of the night.” He pauses and smiles devilishly at the knowing laughter from the crowd. “Anyway! Take care of each other, and clean up after yourselves. I’m not your daddy; if you want that, talk to Steven.” The laughter is louder and more appreciative this time, and there’s a smattering of applause.

Within the first ten minutes or so, I’ve got my sights set on Claire. She’s a hot young thing, and seems to be engrossed in conversation with my friend Sinclair Everett.

“Well, that’s not good,” Santiago is saying.

“What’s not good?” Kimberly asks.

Charlotte motions toward Claire and Sinclair. “That,” she says. “Sinclair is running for Congress, and Claire is his campaign manager. And she had no idea he was going to be here.”

“Oh. Sounds awkward,” says Kimberly, not sounding concerned at all.

Due to his political career, Sinclair is extremely closeted. He’s been married to his wife Mary for over ten years, and they have two adorable children. I’m not surprised that he didn’t tell his campaign manager that he was planning on going to Mr T’s “Big Gay 4th of July Party.” I glance over, and both are gesturing and looking upset.

Charlotte, Kimberly, and Santiago are still gossiping when I smile slyly and say, “I’ll take care of this.”

“I’m your campaign manager. I need you to trust me to act in your best–” Claire stops speaking as I approach.

“Darling!” I kiss Sinclair’s cheek. “So good to see you! And who’s your friend?”

“Katherine, this is Claire, my campaign manager. Claire, this is Katherine, a good friend of mine. She works for the Times.”

“For the Times? That sounds exciting,” Claire says eagerly, taking my outstretched hand. I look her up and down a little and hold her hand a little longer than is absolutely necessary. She flushes slightly.

“Yes, it is. I love my job, and I’d love to tell you  _allll_ about it. May I buy you a drink?” I ask, holding my arm out in the direction of the main cabin where Terrence has set up a bar and hired a bartender for the weekend.

She pauses, glancing at Sinclair. “Well… we were just talking about our next moves, and–”

“Oh, come on,” I protest. “It’s a party! You can talk shop anytime!”

“I guess one drink can’t hurt,” she relents. I smile brightly and place my hand on the small of her back, gently steering her toward the bar. I squeeze Sinclair’s shoulder reassuringly as I lead Claire away, and he mouths a silent ‘ _Thank you._ ’

When we get to the bar, I survey the items quickly. “Whatever the lady wants, and a beer for me,” I tell Tony. “Put it on my tab.” I smile at Claire again, a predatory glint in my eye. We make small talk for a few moments before I casually place a hand on her waist and gesture outside with my chin. I am pleased when she nods without hesitation.

As I lead her back outside we run into a butch-looking woman. “Hey, Claire – what are you up to?” she asks.

“Hi, honey,” Claire says. “This is Katherine. Sinclair introduced us; she works for the Times. Katherine, this is Barbara, my girlfriend.”

“We were just talking about setting up an interview for a future issue. I don’t want to to bore you; you should go have some fun. I’ll be back soon,” Claire says smoothly.

Barbara smiles and waves us off with a laughing, “Don’t work  _too_  hard, this is a party!” but there’s a small shadow of doubt in her eyes.

I smile innocently. “Nice to meet you, Barbara!”

Claire and I continue on down the path for a bit when I spy a small clump of trees just out of view of any would-be onlookers. I stroll over casually, and she follows me. Once I’m satisfied that no one can see, I push her up against a tree and kiss her aggressively as my hands explore her body. Her skin is soft and smooth. I nibble her neck and push her shirt up, pinching and rolling her nipples. She gasps softly.

“Shhh,” I whisper in her ear, and bend down to take a nipple in my mouth. My left hand trails up her inner thigh as my right hand remains on her breast. She lets out a little whimper as I push her skirt out of the way. I grin devilishly at discovering just how wet she is. I cover her mouth with my own as I penetrate her, muffling her cries. It doesn’t take long for her to cum, her hips bucking against my hand as I fuck her hard.

“Holy fuck,” she says. “I needed that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “We’re not done yet.”

We switch places, and I hitch my skirt up around my hips before leaning back against the tree trunk. My dress is thin and the bark is itchy against my back, but I stop noticing when her fingers find my clit. “Yesssss,” I hiss. I rest my hands on her shoulders, and my nails involuntarily dig in as I get closer and closer to orgasm. I hold my breath as I cum in an effort to keep quiet, but a cry still manages to escape my lips.

After I catch my breath, we start to get dressed and straighten our clothing.

“I should, uhh, get back to Barbara,” says Claire awkwardly.

“Yeah, no problem,” I say easily. “This was fun. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

We come out from the clump of trees together and walk back over to the party. “Do you see– oh, nevermind, there she is.” Claire heads over to Barbara who is standing nearby. I see Barbara staring daggers at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignore her.


	6. Challenge Accepted

I sidle up to where Santiago is chatting with some people and nudge her. “Am I glowing?” I ask in a low voice.

She glances up and studies my face for a moment, then exclaims an incredulous, “Already!?” I laugh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she sounded jealous.

Still gloating, I saunter off, scoping out the rest of the party-goers. After a few moments, I spot Nick, a former co-worker from the Times.

“Hey, Katherine!” he says.

“Nick! So good to see you! What are you up to these days?” We make small talk for a few moments. I’m barely listening as we make niceties; years of my grandmother throwing parties for New York’s wealthiest has helped me perfect the art of pretending to be engaged when I’m not really all that interested. He tells me about some magazine he’s working for, how it’s been hard to get funding, etc. I nod and smile pleasantly, throwing in an occasional “hmm,” or “uh huh” in all the right places.

“What would really help is if I could get an interview with Sinclair,” Nick continues.

That gets my attention. “With Sinclair?” I glance over and notice that, much like a bloodhound, Claire seems to have found her way back to him. From the look on his face, she is grilling him once again. “Huh. Well, let’s go talk to him. I’ll introduce you.”

Nick’s eyes go wide. “Really?” he gasps. “That would be amazing!”

“Sure, come on,” I said, heading over towards where Sinclair is standing. “He’d probably love to help you out.”

I lead Nick over to Sinclair. “Sinclair, have you met Nick? He used to work with me at the Times.” The men shake hands, and Nick launches into his pitch. I space out a bit, scanning the rest of the party, cataloguing faces both new and old. I snap back to the conversation when I realize Sinclair is shaking his head uncomfortably.

“Out Magazine? I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…” Oh. Shit. I’d heard of it, it was a gay-centered magazine. Whoops. Perhaps my listening-without-listening skills aren’t as good as I’d thought.

“Perhaps the Times would be a better platform for this interview,” I interrupt. Sinclair nods in relief, agreeing with me. I see Terrence out of the corner of my eye.  _I should go say hello_ , I think. I clap a hand on Sinclair’s shoulder before I amble off. “I’m sure you guys can figure something out, though.”

“Terrence!”

“Katherine!” He kisses my cheek.

“Excellent party, as always! But, poor Sinclair. That Claire girl is badgering him and threatening to out him to his wife. We should do something.” I lean in conspiratorially. “Blackmail, perhaps? Do you have any dirt on her?”

Terrence shakes his head. “We’re not gonna blackmail her. Look, it’s fine. I’m the one who told her.”

My mouth drops open. “What?? Why would you–”

He cuts me off. “It’s fine. She needed to know. Don’t worry about it, it will all be fine!” He pats my shoulder condescendingly and walks off.

I watch him walk off, shaking my head in disbelief. “I hate it when he treats me like his stupid kid sister,” I mutter aloud to myself.

I make my way back to my friends, who are chatting with Morgan. Morgan is a feisty woman who comes off as a bit rough. She’s loud, she says what’s on her mind, and she knows how to get what she wants. I like her. But I am not really listening to the conversation; I’m already scanning the crowd for new prey. Claire was just  _too_ easy.

“Who’s that girl in the copper skirt?” I asked.

Morgan glances over and laughs. “Oh, good luck with that one – that’s Evelyn. She’s Chain’s sister, and she’s straight. Part of the Saratoga crowd.”

My eyes linger. “Straight, huh? Are you sure?”

Morgan laughs again. “Katherine,  _there’s_  your challenge for tonight,” she teases. “I’d  _love_  to see you try to seduce Evelyn.” Santiago and Charlotte look amused. Welp. I never could resist a challenge.

“I accept!”


	7. Tantra and Heavy Breathing

I spend the rest of the afternoon chasing after Evelyn. I introduce myself and find out that she’s a doctor. She also makes a point of telling me she’s straight. Well, “mostly straight” are her exact words. She shows zero interest, and I am becoming increasingly frustrated. I almost give up on her until Morgan taunts me again, making me even more determined.

“Hey, Nate,” I call out.

Nate, AKA the Queen of Manhattan, is the owner of Club Diamond. He’s one of New York’s best drag queens. He also has a knack for knowing all the gossip. He smiles and and kisses the air next to both of my cheeks.

“Katherine, darling. So good to see you!”

“And you! Hey, I was wondering… do you know anything about that girl over there?” I indicate behind him with my chin, where Evelyn is chatting with two other women.

Nate glances over. “Which one?”

“The one with the copper skirt. I hear she’s straight, but…”

“Hey, you!” he interrupts me as calls out to her. “No, not you – your friend. Yeah, you. Come here a sec.” She exchanges looks with her friends, but walks over. “You’ve met Katherine, right?” he says. “She works for the Times.”

Evelyn nods. “Yes, we met earlier. Hello again.”

Nate continues, “Well, she really likes your skirt, and wants to know if you’d be willing to take it off for her later.” With that, he walks off without a backwards glance.

 _“Nate!”_ I exclaim incredulously. There aren’t many people who can make me speechless, but somehow Nate manages it.

I turn to Evelyn, shaking my head in amusement. “Are you planning to attend the tantra workshop?”

“I am, yeah,” she replies.

“Great, me too. Let’s go.” I sling an arm around her shoulders as we walk over to the Pillow Room. It feels awkward, unnatural. We are both tense, and she doesn’t relax into me as most girls do. Hmm. This is going to take a  _lot_ more work.

We enter the Pillow Room and it’s packed. Somehow, thirty some-odd people have managed to cram into a space meant to sleep six people. The heat is stifling. We remove our shoes and squeeze in. Evelyn finds some space on the floor, and I quickly sit in the space right next to her, leaning up against one of the cots that’s been pushed against the wall.

Joani starts off by telling us that there is no actual sex involved in this workshop, and I sigh quietly. So much for  _that_. Oh, well. I decide to struggle through the workshop and see if I can fake it, for Evelyn’s sake. Joani is droning on about breathing through your nose and chakras and some other stuff that’s a bit too “woo” for my tastes. Most people have their eyes closed, but I keep mine open because it’s so warm in there I’m afraid I might actually fall asleep.

Finally, Joani tells us to face our partners and take their hands. Yes! Getting to the good stuff, I hope??… oh, nope. She says something about joining our breathing, and I tune out again, focusing on the feel of Evelyn’s hands in mine. I catch her eye and make a face towards Joani. She smirks a little. Aha! So she’s not as into it as I thought. Good. I roll my eyes and she seems to be struggling not to laugh. A few moments later, Joani tells us to release our partners, and starts going around the room asking people how they felt, one by one. Huh. That’s it? That wasn’t sexy at all. When it’s my turn, I make up something about not having as intense an experience as the others – no point in hurting Joani’s feelings – and Evelyn echoes something similar.

After the workshop, I escort Evelyn out and back down the path towards the main cabin. We pause next door at the Darkroom where a large crowd has gathered. “Huh… what’s going on here?” I wonder aloud. Evelyn’s brother Chain is handing out pieces of rope… some kind of demo? Evelyn fidgets and refuses the piece of rope his… assistant? offers her.

I glance at her.  _Now or never,_ I think. “Do you want to get out of here?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says, looking relieved. We continue along the path toward the main lodge, where some of Nate’s crew is setting up a stage for Club Diamond drag show.

“That was… interesting,” I say.

She laughs. “Yeah.”

“So…” I continue, “tell me about yourself.”

She chuckles softly. “Still a doctor… still mostly straight.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

“Well, I’ve had sex with women before,” she says.

I shrug. “Well, I think we’d have fun together.”

She glances at me, hesitates for a second. “Well… if it involves an orgasm, I’m down.”

I stop walking and turn to face her, my face lighting up. “Really?”

She shrugs. “Sure. Why not?”

I grab her hand and pull her towards the left, over to the bathroom cabins. As soon as we’re close to the entrance, I push her up against the wall outside and slip my hand under her skirt. I watch her face carefully, which is bathed in light from the single bulb above the bathroom door. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open in a perfect “O” as her hips writhe against my hand. Within minutes, she’s crying out. Loudly.  _We’ve got a screamer,_ I think to myself, chuckling.

When she’s caught her breath, I lean against her, pinning her to the wall with my body. She wastes no time, both hands reaching under my skirt, spreading me open with one hand and rubbing my clit with the other. I groan softly, gritting my teeth. “You’re–AH! Pretty good at this, for a–ahhh, ah– straight girl,” I gasp out. “Oh,  _fuck!_ ” Her finger fucks me while she keeps rubbing my clit. I’m humping her hands and crying out as I cum, all pretenses of staying quiet abandoned.

“God, that was good,” I sigh contentedly. “Did you have fun?”

She smiles. “Yeah, I did.”

We go inside the bathroom to fix our clothing and wash up, then head back to the main lodge for the drag show. Once inside, we smile at each other again, but go our separate ways.

Surprising absolutely no one, the drag show is running late. Still slightly giddy, I spy Santiago conversing with some other party-goers and head over. Leaning in, I whisper into her ear, “Straight girl’s not so straight!” and then stride off without waiting for an answer, gloating.


	8. Drama in the Darkroom

I head back towards the Darkroom, where the crowd outside seems to gotten larger, to find out what I’ve missed. Before I get there, I hear a shriek of  _“What the fuck!?”_ and lots of commotion. When I arrive, I survey the scene in front of me: Claire is at the front of the crowd, tied to a cross and shaking slightly, and Sam is holding her. (I don’t know Sam, but I’ve heard stories: she’s Santiago’s ex, and she’s a troublemaker. I generally tend to steer clear of her.) Barbara, Claire’s girlfriend, is stalking away angrily. “Untie me!” Claire demands hysterically. Sam obliges, and Claire collapses in her arms. After a moment or two, Claire takes off, presumably to look for Barbara.

Steven is standing at the door to the Darkroom. He holds up his hands for silence, and the crowd obeys. “This was a contest for the women to prove that they are just as tough as men. Today, the women have shown us what they can do. Chain, take down that sign.” Chain removes the “MEN ONLY” sign from the door to the Darkroom and hands it to Steven. “From now on,” Steven continues, “women will be welcomed in our space.” He rips the sign in half symbolically. There are whoops and hollers all around.

Hmmm… interesting. I make a mental note of this, and then head back to the main lodge with the others for the drag show.


	9. Your Pen Doesn’t Work

I always enjoy the drag show. Nate is as sassy as ever, the kind of Queen you can’t help but love… or love to hate, for some! A few of the Club Diamond regulars perform (Lady Verona, Reginald), as well as a few new guest stars. When Santiago’s girlfriend Pen takes the stage, I can feel her tense up beside me.

Earlier in the day, Santiago had told Charlotte, Kimberly and I that Pen was planning something. “I don’t know what,” she says, “but something ‘to show the world that you belong to me’ or something. I don’t know– whatever. I’m sure it will be fine,” she says, waving her bejeweled wrist dismissively. But I know better – Santiago hates feeling anything less than independent and  _especially_ hates feeling “caged.”

Knowing this, I almost expect her to bolt as soon as Pen takes the mic. “[Touch me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3ir9HC9vYg),” she croons. “How can it be?” She glides effortlessly up and down the stage, as though she was born to be in the spotlight. “Hold me close to your heart…” Pen reaches into the audience, past the first row to the second where Santiago and I are perched. “Touch me…” She grabs Santiago’s hand, smiling. “And give all your love to me…” Santiago’s eyes are wide with shock as she gapes at Pen, transfixed. Pen drops her hand and finishes the song to much applause. Afterwards, she returns to her seat without so much as a glance in our direction.

I turn to face Santiago. She looks… uncomfortable? Certainly not happy. I lean over and whisper, “You okay?”

She nods unconvincingly. “Just…  feeling overwhelmed.” I don’t quite believe her, but I don’t push. Knowing Santiago, she’ll tell me when she’s good and ready, so I let it go.

After the drag show, Urban Renaissance takes the stage. “Move those fuckin’ chairs, and let’s  _dance!_ ” they cry out. I sway with the music, enjoying the buzz from my beer. After a few moments, I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I turn and make eye contact with a butch-looking woman. I generally tend to go for femmes, but something about her intrigues me. I dance closer, closing the distance slightly. She does the same. We dance together for a few moments, wordless.

I step off the dance floor and grab my beer, studying her. We make eye contact again, and she comes over.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Dawn.”

“Katherine.” She offers no further information, and I don’t ask. Her arms encircle my waist. After a few moments of dancing close, she gestures over her shoulder with her chin. “Wanna get out of here?”

I smile devilishly and open my mouth to answer when I hear a shriek, and a hysterical voice yelling. Santiago. The music stops as I whirl around.

“…WITH YOUR FINGERS IN MY CUNT! YOU DON’T FUCKING OWN ME!  _FUCK!!_ ” Santiago runs from the club in tears, leaving Pen standing by herself near the stage. Without a second thought, I leave Dawn alone on the dance floor and race outside after her.

“Santiago! Santiago, WAIT!” I catch up with her. “What the fuck just happened??”

Her voice cracks as she spits, “She fingered me on the dance floor. But it wasn’t for me. She just wanted to show people that she  _owns_ me, to show off how fucking  _perfect_ her life is. But no one fucking owns me.  _NO ONE!_ “

Her shoulders are still quaking. For a moment I am lost. The strongest woman I know looks back at me, her face streaked with tears. It pains me to see. I wrap an arm around her and escort her back to the cabin we share with several others. Thankfully, it’s empty. We lay on a mattress on the floor and I hold her until her tears subside, stroking her hair and whispering that everything was going to be okay.

Suddenly, her lips are on mine. After a moment, she pulls back slightly. “Katherine, what are we… I mean…” I hesitate, then tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her face back to mine. She moans into my mouth. There is a small voice in the back of my brain warning me that we’d both promised not to do this again, that we are better off as friends, that this is going to be a disaster… but I ignore it: this feels so  _right_. She kisses across my cheek to my ear, nibbling at my earlobe. I dig my nails into her back when she gently bites the top shell of my ear and breathes hot air against it. Her lips travel down my neck to my breasts, pausing there. I pull her shirt up and rake my nails down her back, which arches at the sensation.

I raise my hips to allow her to pull my skirt down and off, along with my panties. “Wait,” I pant. Sitting up, I pull my shirt off and unclasp my bra. Leaning forward, I pull her shirt up over her head. I caress her cheek, tracing her jawline. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, pulling her lips to mine again. She twines her fingers through my curls. When she pulls away, she pushes me back down gently and her lips continue their downward descent.

She is gentle – more gentle than she’s ever been with me. Our lovemaking feels both frantic and tender. She knows exactly how to touch me: my body is her canvas, her touch the paint brush. I shudder beneath her, calling out her name – not the name everyone calls her, but her real name, the one she tells almost no one. When I’ve caught my breath, she is staring at me in wonderment. My mind flashes briefly back to the tantra workshop from earlier in the night.  _How does it feel to really be seen?_

I pull her down next to me, kissing her passionately. Then I raise myself up to kneel over her. I lick and suckle at her breasts, rolling her nipples in my fingers before lowering my mouth to her center. I am gentle also – almost  _too_ gentle, as she pushes a hand on my head and thrusts her hips up at the same time. I chuckle against her and lick her with greater fervor. I feel her convulse beneath me, and I continue. She convulses again… and again… and again…


	10. Empty Bed, Empty Heart

We are still enjoying the afterglow, lying wrapped in each other’s arms, when Abner walks in. He freezes mid-stride when he sees us. I grin widely and make a peace sign with my fingers, “‘Sup, Abner?” while Santiago bursts into laughter at the shocked look on his face.

He stammers, “I’m sorry… I can come back later, when you’ve finished… commencing.” He turns and is halfway to the door in the amount of time it takes me to open my mouth to speak.

“No, it’s okay,” I assure him, “we’re done.”

“But you’re lesbians. Can’t you… commence… several times?”

“Who says we haven’t?” Santiago challenges him, and then it’s my turn to dissolve into laughter. Abner sits on his cot, seemingly unsure what else to do.

“So, uhhh. You two, huh?” he says awkwardly.

“Yup!” I smile brightly. “So, what’s going on out there?”

We make small talk for a few minutes, Santiago and I snuggled up against each other under a blanket.

Just then, Kimberly bursts in. “What are you guys  _doing?!_ Charlotte is crying.”

“ _What?_ ” I exclaim. Both Santiago and I sit up and make a mad scramble for our clothing.

“What happened?” I demand, fastening my bra.

“She ran off,” Kimberly says evasively.

I sigh, slipping my feet into my shoes. Before we leave the cabin, Santiago grabs me and kisses me again. I relax against her, the entire world melting away.

“You guys!  _Your friend is crying!_  This is no time for making out!” We break apart guiltily and rush from the cabin to look for Charlotte.

We split up to look. First I check the main lodge, which is almost completely empty. I walk around just to make sure she isn’t hiding in a corner somewhere. Next, I check the bathrooms. “Kimberly?” I call out. It’s silent. No one there, either.

When I peek into the Darkroom I find Kimberly topless–well, “topless” at least in terms of clothing. She’s laying on the floor with Sam straddling her, pinching one nipple while slapping the other breast. I pause in shock. Her words from just a little while ago echo in my head:  _Your friend is crying!_ _This is no time for making out!_ Well, this explains why Charlotte is upset. Kimberly catches my eye and grins at me. I shake my head in exasperation and turn around, walking silently back outside to continue my search for Charlotte.

I’m about to head toward the Pillow Room when I spot her across the path, walking with Dawn and… Max, I think his name was? Santiago spies her from across the field as well, and we arrive at the same time.

“Charlotte!” I call out.

She stops and looks at me. “Hey,” she says glumly.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “I heard you were… upset.” I choose my words carefully, glancing at Dawn and Max.

“I’m fine,” she says calmly. A bit  _too_  calmly.

“Are you sure?” I press.

“Yes. These two lovely people were about to show me a good time.”

I am taken aback: casual sex is not usually Charlotte’s style. And what the fuck  happened with Kimberly? I exchange a Look with Santiago. “Oh. Umm… okay. You’re sure you’re okay?” She nods. “Okay, well… have a good time, then.” I watch her skeptically as she disappears into her cabin the with two strangers.

I sigh softly. “I hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Santiago says. “She’s probably just blowing off some steam. Lord knows, she could use it.”

“Yeah. Well… I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

“I’m going to stay up a little while longer,” Santiago says.  _Oh._  My face falls. I know what  _that_  means.

“Okay… have fun,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.

“Thanks. See you later,” she says, heading back across the lawn.

I head back to the cabin, feeling strangely empty. The last thing I see before I fall asleep is Santiago’s empty bed.


	11. A Thin Line

The next morning, I am cold and distant towards Santiago. I can’t help feeling angry with her for abandoning me after our connection last night and going off to have more sex with God knows who. Then I feel guilty for feeling that way, considering my own sexual exploits. But I never led her on, I argue with myself. Before breakfast, she asks me to take a walk. I shrug. “Sure. Whatever.”

We walk out back near the river while everyone else gets in line for food. She takes a deep breath and pauses, seeming to struggle with the words. I almost take a step toward her, but catch myself. Finally, she looks at me. “I’m sorry.” I am silent. “I know I hurt your feelings last night. We both agreed not to do that again, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you being a good friend.”

I glare at her. “You think  _that’s_  why I’m angry?”

She looks confused. “Well, isn’t it?”

“You–” Words elude me. “You’re such an idiot!” I explode. “I  _knew_ we shouldn’t have done that again!” I storm off, walking downriver a bit.  _I hate her_ , I think to myself.  _I hate her for making me feel this way. And I hate myself for falling for her, AGAIN._

I hear Santiago approaching behind me, but I don’t turn around.

“Katherine.” I ignore her. “Katherine, please talk to me.”

I turn around, but I don’t say anything. The pain in my eyes says it all.

Santiago looks ashamed. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” I open my mouth to reply, but she holds up one finger. “I realized something last night. Everyone else is just sex. But you… I care a lot about you, Katherine.” I stare at her in disbelief. “And judging by your reaction this morning,” she continues, “you feel the same way about me.” She shrugs helplessly. “Up until now, I had no idea. After we talked about it last time, I thought that you  _wanted_  to be just friends. I guess I’ve been pretty dense.” She smiles ruefully. “As usual.”

“You… you didn’t know?”  _She didn’t know. She didn’t abandon me last night; she left because she thought I wanted her to._

She taps her forehead. “Thick skulled.”

I take a step closer and allow my arm to circle her waist. “So, does this mean we’re a… a Thing?”

She smiles and kisses me. “I guess so. Now, come on – I’m hungry. And if we wait any longer, the brown water they call coffee around here will be gone.” She takes my hand and leads me back inside for breakfast.


	12. Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers related to the Lottery of Death.

_As a player, I’m not entirely sure where in the timeline the Lottery of Death happens. I think that’s probably unclear on purpose; since it’s not the way things “really” happen (well, as far as we living people know, anyway)._

People are in good spirits until the bell rings, signaling that the Lottery is about to begin. The room goes silent as ominous music fills the room. I sit close to Santiago, my left arm linked through her right. Nate already has a tear sliding down his face. I smile at him, slightly bemused. “Already?”

Santiago gives me a Look. “Well, yeah. This is scary,” she says. I immediately wipe the smile off my face and nod somberly. She’s right.

One of the two Agents of Death passes out small pieces of paper to write our names on: one for the least risky behavior over the past year, up to five for very risky. Everyone must throw their name in at least once. The second Agent collects the names in a hat from which they will pull the names of the unfortunate. I am unsure whether to put my name in two times or three, but in the end decide to go with my original instinct and put in three. Death announces that they need ten names.  _Ten?_  I think, looking around. steps There were roughly forty people.  _That’s a lot._

Death asks Pepper to pull the names. Pepper steps out of the kitchen and comes to stand at the front of the room. He reaches into the hat and begins reading off the names, not pausing for more than a second or two between each. “Sam. Tomasz. Max.” As each name is called, that person stands up and goes to the front of the room to wait.

“Simon. Leon. Ruben. Trevor.” The room is silent save for the music and Pepper’s solemn voice.

“Joani.” Gasps all around the room, and one high-pitched voice lets out a horrified wail of, “What!?” I am slightly shaken, myself. I knew Joani. Not well, but I knew her. She was a bit of a quack, but she was kind and she had a good heart.

“Dawn.” I hear a choked sob, and look over to see Charlotte’s shoulders shaking. I am sad for her, but feel surprisingly calm: lots of people were more risky than me and my friends. I become more and more relieved as names are called and none are people I am close with.

“…and Katherine.”

Santiago and I look at each other in shock. I hesitate, then realize they are waiting for me. I stand up to join the crowd of names that had been pulled, my eyes wide. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Santiago lets out a primal scream of grief that sounds almost inhuman. I jump, and look over numbly. Her face is buried in her arms.

“Please follow us outside. The rest of you, wait here.”

I fall into line in a daze as we follow of the Agents of Death dressed in black. As we march outside single file, I am filled with regret. “I made stupid choices,” I thought. “I should not have been so careless.” One anguished thought rises above the others: “I’m not ready to die!”

They lead us outside to a field behind the cabins. “Wait here. Do not speak.” We are left with the Angel of Death. I am standing amongst nine other people, and yet I have never felt so alone in my life. Tears stream down my face. We wait for what feels like forever before we are told to advance down the field. I can hear the distant strains of the same sad music from inside wafting down the field.

I see coffins in the distance. Only five? I squint in confusion. We are stopped about ten feet from the coffins. “Those of you who see your names in the coffins, lay down in them. If you are covered with a shroud, then you have passed on. The others who see your names in a coffin have contracted the virus, but you may not know it yet. The rest of you have had a near-death experience sometime later this year, but you survive.” My stomach drops as I advance, skimming the names in search of my own.

It isn’t there.

It takes a moment for the news to sink in. I’m not dead? I back away from the coffins and see the rest of the crowd starting to approach. Santiago rushes at me and envelops me in a bear hug. “Don’t you  _ever_  scare me like that again!” I find Charlotte and Kimberly and hug them, too. I look around at the crowd, which is a mixture of people embracing and sobbing. There are two bodies still in the coffins. I don’t remember who.

The music slowly dies down, and the Angel of Death faces us solemnly. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Leon.” The former disco star. I hear more gasping sobs from the people around me. The Angel of Death looks around sadly. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Simon.” The rock star? He was part of Urban Renaissance.

As the opening notes of Just A Little Lovin’ trickle from the speakers, there are no words. The vastly different cliques mingle, embracing both friends and strangers, united in their grief.


	13. What If It’s…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slightly out of order in terms of when it happened for the players, but makes sense to be discussed here in terms of Katherine’s timeline: I wanted a Black Box scene to show how Katherine’s friends and family would react to her near-death experience.

I lay in bed, coughing uncontrollably. Santiago, Charlotte, my little brother Artie, and Sinclair are gathered in my bedroom. Artie is holding a cool washcloth to my fevered brow.

“So cold,” I mumble. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Artie calls to the others, “Can we get some extra blankets?” Santiago gently lays another comforter over me.

After a moment, I throw them off. “Too hot.” A moment later, I start shivering again.

Artie covers me with the blankets again and takes a step away from the bed. “She’s burning up,” he murmurs. “Cold sweats. We have to do something.”

I can hear Sinclair on the phone, giving a list of my symptoms. He sounds tense. “That’s right. Swollen lymph nodes, fever, cold sweats, and she can’t keep anything down. … No, no rash or lesions. ” His voice quickly gets louder and turns angry. “What do you mean, you  _can’t_ see her? Don’t you know who I am?!” he yells into the phone. This is the third or fourth hospital he’s called.

Charlotte yanks the receiver from his hand. “You can’t do this! You  _have_ to treat her! This is  _discrimination!”_  She launches into a tirade of legalese and then stops abruptly. “They hung up,” she says quietly. I hear a chorus of sighs.

Artie mops my brow again. His image becomes fuzzy. All of a sudden, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am dying. “Daddy?” I whisper weakly. He hovers over me, looking concerned. I reach out to clutch his hand and see a female figure just to his left. “Mommy?” My mother backs away from the bed as I reach for her. I look at my father, confused, and his face morphs back into Artie’s. I glance up and see Charlotte staring at me, horrified. I convulse as another coughing fit takes wracks my body.

“Isn’t there  _anyone_ else we can call?” Charlotte says desperately. Santiago sighs heavily, and the others turn to look at her.

“What?” Sinclair asks her.

“…Enrique” she answers. “He’s a med student. He might be able to help.” Sinclair hands her the phone without another word. She takes the phone and dials a number.


	14. Awkward Savior

A loud knock sounds at the door, startling everyone. Charlotte opens it, and Enrique strolls in. He and Santiago lock eyes for a brief moment.  “Thanks for coming–” she begins, but Enrique cuts her off.

“It’s not for you. It’s for  _her_.” He strides over to my bed.

“Well, thank you anyway,” Santiago finishes, sounding sad.

“What’s  _that_  about?” Sinclair asks Santiago softly, but she only shrugs in response.

Enrique feels my forehead, listens to my lungs and heart, and pokes and prods me for a few minutes before standing up. “She’s going to be fine. It’s pneumonia.” He takes out a few bottles of pills and cough syrup from his medical bag as the others let out audible sighs of relief.

There are several cries of thanks as he gathers his things to leave. He fixes Santiago with another piercing stare. “I told you… it’s not for you.” He then turns and walks out without another word, leaving the rest of us in awkward silence.


	15. Friend For Life

I am busily scribbling at my desk when I hear a sharp rap on the door. I walk over and open it to reveal Enrique and his medical bag. “Enrique, hi!” I say, smiling warmly and gesturing him inside.

“Hey,” he says, dropping his bag on the coffee table. “How are you feeling?”

“ _Much_  better, thanks to you. Can I get you anything before we begin?”

“No, thanks,” he says, opening his bag and putting on his stethoscope. He proceeds to listen to my lungs and heart, going through all the usual check-ins that he’s been performing every few days for the past few weeks. I cough lightly.

He eyes the half-full wine glass sitting on my table next to my legal pad. “Have you been staying away from alcohol?”

“Oh, you know… mostly.” I flash him a winning smile.

He regards me sternly. “Uh huh. You know that alcohol slows down your natural healing process. If you want to get better, you need to refrain.”

“Yeah yeah, I understand. Listen, I want to thank you. Seriously. If it weren’t for you, I could have died. Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask.

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Oh, come on. There must be  _something_ ,” I press.

“Not really. I’m just making my way through med school; I have everything I need.” he says.

“Right,” I say thoughtfully. “Remind me, which school are you attending?”

“NYU,” he says.

“My alma mater!” I exclaim with a smile. “Well, call me if you think of anything. Seriously – I owe you.”

“I will. And stay away from alcohol!”

I walk him out and close the door behind him, musing. I make a split second decision and grab the phone. “Hello, could you transfer me to the Bursar’s office? I’d like to pay my tuition in full. My name?… Enrique Fernandez.”


	16. Unexpected Surprise

I am in the bathroom touching up my makeup when I hear the opening notes of the ritualistic song Terrence plays at the start of the party each year.  _Oops. The girls’ll be looking for me. Oh, well._ I pucker my lips in the mirror and put on my best “come fuck me” lipstick.

It’s been a rough year, for a few reasons. First is that after almost a year of working twelve-hour days, I finally got the promotion I’d wanted: I’m now THE editor of the Times. I’m still working crazy hours, but I’ve vowed to use this vacation to have some FUN, dammit!

The second is that after my pneumonia scare, Santiago had confessed that she’d thought I was going to die before she got the chance to tell me that she was in love with me. I’d admitted to her that I also thought I was going to die, and that I was head over heels in love with her, too. After that, things were pretty great for a while. She moved into my place, and our relationship only deepened. But then we’d had a few fights where I demanded exclusivity, and Santiago refused. She said that she loved me and wanted to be with me, but refused to be in a relationship where she felt chained down –  _especially_  after what happened last year with Pen. I’d said that I understood, but still argued that being monogamous was “safer.” Eventually she got me to admit that I was simply scared of losing her. We didn’t discuss it in detail, but when I finally said that, she knew that I certainly was  _not_  referring to her leaving me for another woman. And she’d managed to assuage my fears, holding me in her arms and promising that we are safe because we’re women.

And that’s the third thing. Most of the time I try not to think too hard about the illness sweeping our community, let alone talk about it. It makes me feel helpless, and that’s too scary to dwell on. It’s the elephant in everyone’s room. A whole herd of them.

I hum along with Dolly’s Star Spangled Banner as I layer mascara onto my lashes.  _What was I thinking? I can’t wait to get out there and have some fun!_

I walk out from the bathroom and find Santiago, Charlotte, and Kimberly just as the last notes of the Star Spangled Banner are played. I wrap my arms around Santiago and kiss her cheek. She murmurs, “I was wondering where you were.”

“Just fixing my makeup,” I reply. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” I head inside, go straight to the bar, and order a rum and Coke. I gulp it down quickly and then immediately order a double. I haven’t eaten in hours and the buzz hits me quickly – just as I’d intended.

I’m sitting by myself and surveying the room for who I can possibly start having some fun with when a familiar face walks by. Long, auburn, curly hair… Marcie. I remember her from last year, she was a friend of Nick’s. Cute girl… could be fun. I grab her arm and sway slightly. “I like fucking. Do you like fucking?” My words slur together and my tongue feels thick. And that line sounded a lot better in my head.  _Shit. I am_ really  _drunk._

Marcie gawks at me. “Uhh, yeah. I like fucking.”

“Good. Let’s go fuck.” I toss back the rest of my drink, then grab her hand and head backstage. She follows me, looking nervous and slightly bewildered. I find a corner just out of sight of the drag queens getting ready for tonight’s show.

We make out for a few minutes. I reach down and under her skirt… and freeze. I gaze at her in shock. She freezes too, looking like a deer in headlights. She looks terrified.  _Poor girl,_  I think.  _She thought I knew._

I feel the familiar stirrings of desire. A slow smile spreads onto my face as I drop to my knees. “Huh. I haven’t done  _this_  in a while.” Her eyes are wide as I push her skirt up. I grasp her hips and wrap my lips around the head of her cock, swirling my tongue around gently. She gasps, and I chuckle around her.  _Oh, this is_ hot!

I close my eyes and begin pumping my head up and down along her shaft, using her hipbones as leverage. “Oh, god,” she moans. She climaxes quickly, and I rise to kiss her again, the taste of her still on my mouth.

“Now do me,” I murmur. We switch so that she is on her knees and I am leaning against the wall. I hitch my skirt up and pull my leggings down.

She licks me tentatively, then looks up at me. “How do I– what do you like?” I push her face between my legs. “I like  _that._ ” She wiggles her tongue. “No, up and down – that’s right – harder…”

“Like that?” she asks.

“A little to the left – no, MY left – ahh yeah, right there, don’t move!”

_I like a girl who aims to please,_  I think.  _She’s a good lover._  But I’m so turned on, I soon become impatient. Grabbing the curls at the back of her head, I push her face hard into my crotch and hold her there as I grind myself against her. “Yeah– fuck, that’s right– AHH!!” She sucks my clit gently into her mouth and I cum, hard.

I help her back to her feet and kiss her again. “Oh man, that was hot. Thanks for that.”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling shyly. “That was nice.”


	17. A Helping Hand

Back at the main lodge, I get another drink and look around for Santiago. “Maria!” I call out to the dance floor. A few heads swivel to look at me questioningly. “ _Maria!_ ” I yell louder, more insistently. I get a few more funny looks, but no Santiago.  _Where is my girlfriend?_  I go out the back door and down the steps. “MARIA!” I yell, slurring slightly. Several people are staring at me now, but I don’t notice. “I’m gonna go find Maria,” I announce to no one in particular. Drink in hand, I leave the main lodge.

 _I am sooo drunk,_  I think.  _So what if I’m drunk as a skunk?_  I reason with myself.  _Hell, it’s a party – I deserve to relax!_ I meander around the campground for a bit, first peeking into the Pillow Room and then into the Darkroom, looking for something interesting to watch. The Darkroom is full of men, so I head back outside. I stumble slightly, pitching forward.

Unexpectedly, there is a voice at my side. “Whoa, you okay there?” I turn to see Barbara holding my elbow.

I stumble slightly again and turn towards her. “Hi.”

“Hey, Katherine,” she says, sounding slightly concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around her neck. I am trying to lean in seductively, but in reality I am just leaning on her drunkenly. “I like fucking. Wanna fuck?”

She raises an eyebrow and chuckles incredulously. “Do I want to  _fuck?_ Um, remember last year?”

I pause. “Yeah,” I lie, having no idea what she was referring to.

“You fucked Claire. Remember? She was my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah. Well…” I pause. “You should fuck me, then. It will be good revenge.” I grin.

“Oh it will, will it?” She doesn’t sound convinced, but also doesn’t look uninterested.

“Yeah. It will make Claire jealous,” I assure her.

“Uh huh,” she answers. But she doesn’t push me away.

“Bathroom,” I say. She lets me lean on her, stumbling drunkenly toward the bathrooms.

“Anyone in here?” I call when we enter. There is only silence.

We grab a bench just outside the showers. Barbara wraps her arms around me from behind and pushes me up against the wall, lifting up my shirt and mauling my breasts aggressively. I moan appreciatively and push my hips back towards her.

She slips one finger easily inside me, then two, then three. I moan and gyrate, bracing myself against the cold wall. I hear the bathroom door open and see someone gaping out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t care. Feeling an intense pressure, I look down and realize that all I can see is her wrist. “Oh, God!” I cry out. I shudder against her as I cum.

After I’ve relaxed, she gently eases her hand back out. I sigh contentedly. “That was good. Thanks.”


	18. Long Time Coming

I’m drifting around aimlessly, taking a swig from the drink in my hand every now and then, when I spot Kimberly along one of the paths. She grins lasciviously at me, and I grin back. Kimberly has now hit on me more times than I can count. She’s good-looking and definitely wild; just my type – well, for a casual hook-up, anyway. And, because of Charlotte, I know for a fact that she’s a firecracker in bed.

Charlotte is the main reason I’ve rebuffed all of Kimberly’s advances. They were mostly monogamous, as far as I know. The breakup was over baby drama: they couldn’t agree on who the father should be. C’est la vie. Things were rocky in our little group for a little while, but we’re finally stable again. Charlotte and Kimberly are no longer a couple, but they’ve managed to remain friends. And thank goodness: Santiago and I knew all along that they wouldn’t last, but Kimberly really grew on us. We were both happy not to have to choose sides. For better or for worse, Kimberly is one of us.  _And now that she’s no longer attached to Charlotte, she’s fair game,_ I thought.

I curl an arm around Kimberly’s waist and pull her close. “Wanna check out the Pillow Room?” I purr, my face very close to hers.

She pauses. “Uhh,” she says, looking surprised.

I laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before.”

She laughs, too. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk before.”

“Well, why don’t you accompany me over there? Keep me safe. You know…  just in case.”

“In case any wild lesbians decide to jump your bones?” she teases.

I wink at her. “Something like that.”

The Pillow Room is surprisingly empty when we arrive. Removing my shoes, I sit on one of the few cots that still has a mattress on the springs instead of on the floor. Kimberly sits down next to me. “So–”

I cut her off by pulling her face to mine. I kiss her aggressively, my tongue eagerly exploring her mouth. She answers by wrapping her arms around me.

I jump when door opens. Pepper bursts in with Kohana, who is one of the Saratoga hippies and Joani’s spouse, along with some other guy not too far behind them.

“I’m telling you, they were transcendental balls of energy!” Pepper is insisting to Kohana.

Kohana gestures to Kimberly and I on the cot. “Are  _they_  transcendental balls of energy, too?”

Pepper scoffs. “No, they’re lesbians. It’s different.”

Kimberly and I burst out laughing and sit up. Kohana and the other man join us on the bed while Pepper mutters more about transcendental energy and gesticulates wildly.

I glance at the stranger and stick my hand out. “Hey. Katherine.”

“Jerred,” he says, shaking my hand.

“So, what’s going on?” I ask.

Kohana answers, “Pepper’s taken…  _something_ … and now thinks that people are balls of energy.”

I glance at Pepper. “…huh. But not us, eh?”

“No,” Pepper insists. “The  _others_ were transcendental balls of energy. You guys are just people.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, bemused. Pepper cocks his head, contemplating me.

Kohana takes in our disheveled appearance. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “We were just about to–”

“But it’s not exactly interrupting if you’re planning to join us,” Kimberly interrupts me.

I open my mouth to protest, then close it again.  _Oh, what the hell?_ I think to myself.  _It might be fun._  My philosophy has always been that some dick every now and again can be fun, as long as it doesn’t happen  _too_  often, and the dick doesn’t want a relationship afterwards.

“Whaddya say, Katherine?” says Kimberly, a gleam in her eye. In response, I lean over her and begin making out with Kohana.

Soon there is only a tangle of bodies and limbs, and even I can’t tell who’s who.


	19. Trouble in Paradise

I am sitting in the back of the main cabin drinking some water to avoid the hangover that I know is coming tomorrow morning when Santiago appears.

“Hey, babe. I’ve barely seen you tonight! What have you been up to?” she asks, kissing my forehead.

“Oh, you know… the usual,” I reply evasively. I have a feeling she won’t be thrilled with me when she finds out  _exactly_ what I’ve been up to in her absence.

She grins. “The usual, huh? Okay, so,  _who_  have you been up to?”

I chew my lip nervously. “Well, I was with Kimberly and, uhh, some others, in the Pillow Room.”

“Which others?” she presses.

“A few guys? I don’t remember. I was  _really_ drunk.”

 _“Katherine!”_  she says, exasperated. “You don’t remember? And you were with  _guys?_  Did you have sex with them? Were you at least safe?”

I avoid her eyes. “I don’t remember,” I say softly.

_“WHAT?!”_

“I mean, I was really, really drunk. I definitely made out with Kimberly, but I don’t quite remember the rest.” I crack a smile. “On the bright side, I think I was actually  _too_ drunk to do anything, so there’s that.”

Santiago doesn’t smile back. She looks upset.

“Look, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I remember laying down on the cot, and room was spinning a bit. I don’t think I was able to do much of anything,” I say.

“Katherine, that is really dangerous. You know what it’s like out there.” I am silent. I can’t argue. “Are you  _sure_  you didn’t do anything?”

I shrug helplessly. “No.”

She sighs again. Without warning, my eyes well up with tears. I hate it when she’s disappointed or angry with me. She’s the only person I could ever allow myself to be this vulnerable with, and I’m suddenly terrified that I’ve ruined it. I clutch her hand and whisper, “Don’t leave me.”

“What?” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave you.” She sits down next to me. “Katherine.” I look up at her. “I don’t care who you fuck,” she continues. “You  _know_  that. I just want you to be safe. It’s scary out there.” I nod miserably, ashamed of myself. “Please just be safe.” She kisses me, smoothing my hair reassuringly. “Do you promise?” I nod silently, still looking down at my lap.


	20. Winds of Change

I’m outside watching the bonfire when I see Ruben coming toward me, looking agitated. “What’s up?” I ask.

“It’s just– we need to– People need to  _do_  something!” he says angrily. He’s waving his arms around emphatically. “We can’t just ignore it anymore. People are out here partying, and–” His voice trails off.

I shrug, holding my palms up. “I don’t–”

He cuts me off. “No. We can’t just sit around anymore. People are  _dying._ ”

His words shatter the walls I’ve had up all night. “Well, what do you want me to  _do?_ ” I ask angrily.

“You  _know_  what,” he says. He looks at me intently, his eyes boring into me.

I study him for a long moment before I answer, looking at his earnest face. I’ve known Ruben for a long time, and I’ve never seen him like this before. I nod slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoes.

“Yeah. Okay.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you want me to do?” I ask again, gently.

“For starters, you could print that interview with Sinclair,” he says.

I hesitate.  _Sinclair will kill me._  “I’ll think about it.” Ruben opens his mouth to argue. “I’ll print  _something_ ,” I say quickly. “I’ll make it happen.”

He looks relieved, and hugs me. “Thank you.”

Just then, Terrence walks by. Ruben grabs his shoulder, launching into a similar pitch as the one he just gave me. Terrence shrugs Ruben off. “No. We’re here to party. Can’t I just enjoy my own party?” Ruben begins shouting at him. I roll my eyes. I can’t really blame Ruben for being frustrated, as this has been an ongoing theme for a long time: Ruben wants to talk, and Terrence is only interested in having fun. Not wanting to get in the middle of yet another argument between the two of them, I leave them to it and go back to the bar.


	21. Saratoga Seeds

I am sitting outside on the back steps with a beer when Terrence approaches me.

“Hey, listen: I just wanted to give you a heads up. I’m thinking about buying this place.”

My brow furrows. “Why? Don’t you already rent it? What’s the point in buying it?”

“No no, not for parties. For like… rehab. I want to re-open the Saratoga Center, only as, like, a care center. For… us.”

I stare at him. “…us?”

He gestures impatiently. “For people who are sick.” My eyes widen in comprehension. “I figure I’ll put a few people on the lease. A Saratogan, and one of the lesbians – probably Morgan.”

“ _Morgan?_ Why not m– someone more high profile?” I’m a little hurt that he didn’t think of me first; after all, we are much closer friends than he is with Morgan. I try not to show it.

He waves his arm again. “Whatever. We’ll figure it out. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.”

“I guess Ruben finally got to you, eh?” I grin as he grimaces slightly. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a great idea. And, uhh, if you need another name to put on the lease…” my voice trails off.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll let you know.”


	22. Steven’s Outburst

I am uncharacteristically quiet as I sit near the bar. I’ve long ago switched to beer, and there are several empty cans on the table in front of me. I’m normally a happy, horny drunk, but after everything that’s happened tonight, my thoughts have finally caught up to me.

I’ve been hiding from the fact that I’m scared. People are dying, and sooner or later it’s going to be someone I care about. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about it by spending all of my time drinking and/or fucking, but it’s not working. Thinking about my conversation with Ruben, I wonder how I’m going to follow through on my promise without getting fired.  _But at least I’m doing something,_ I think.  _That’s the important thing._

“Katherine? I… oh, my god,” says Artie, noticing the empty beer cans on the table. “Are you okay? What are you doing?”

I’m fine,” I answer, staring out into the room. I don’t want to tell him what I’m thinking, especially not tonight, when we should all be having fun. I don’t want to ruin his party.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and bends down, studying my face. “No, you’re not. And this,” he gestures to the empty cans, “is unlike you. I’m worried about you.”

I smile up at him, squeezing his shoulder. “Seriously, I’m fine. These aren’t even all mine,” I lie. He looks dubious. “I’m gonna go check out the fire.” I kiss his cheek. “I love you, little brother. Go have fun. Get laid, or something.”

I step outside and walk over to the bonfire. Fire has always had a calming effect on me, and soon I am entranced by the flames. There are sounds of laughter and merrymaking all around me.

_“WHAT THE FUCK!!”_

I almost jump out of my skin as a very loud, very angry voice shouts through the din. I look up to see who is shouting. It’s Steven. He shouts again.

 _“What. The. FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!_ _”_  People have stopped speaking, and every eye is on him. “WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING AROUND YOU?” The party has gone completely silent. “Simon was my friend, my brother, AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT INSTRUMENT HE PLAYED!” Steven pauses, his stare icy as he looks around. “No one told his brothers he was dying because they DIDN’T KNOW WE EXISTED. We live in too many fucking closets. People are passing out on stage and you just ignore it. The show must go on. It is all we have. Put it in a FUCKING CLOSET.” He glares at us, chest heaving. “We all promised we were going to make luminaries to honor our friends at midnight. Well, that’s in ten minutes, and no one has made a single one. Because we just PUT IT IN THE FUCKING CLOSET and go PARTY. Well, this is not all we have. WE ARE MORE THAN JUST A PARTY. So come out of your closets, do your fucking job and HONOR YOUR FRIENDS.” Steven turns on his heel and walks back inside. After a moment of shocked silence, several people follow him inside. There are soft murmurs through the rest of the crowd.

All at once, the emotions I’ve been trying to stifle catch up with me: fear of getting sick and dying, fear of my friends dying, shame at forgetting about the luminaries, guilt at not having done anything to help with the growing crisis. I barely knew Leon or Simon – with the exception of a few fleeting moments when Nate and I laughingly tried to convince Simon to dress in drag for last year’s Urban Renaissance performance – but Steven is right: they were part of our family. I decide to join the people who’d gathered inside and create a luminary.

There is a small group of party-goers sitting at one of the tables which has white paper bags, tea light candles, and markers strewn all over. They almost look like children at summer camp doing arts and crafts, were it not for the somber looks on their faces. I spot Steven sitting at the head of the table. He is speaking with a few people in hushed tones, and I feel a sudden overwhelming urge to hug him. So, I do. I stride over and touch his shoulder to get his attention. He barely has a chance to look up and see who is in front of him before I reach down and embrace him. Tears fill my eyes and spill over, and I squeeze him tightly for a long moment. When I step back, I look into his eyes and say, “Thank you.”

He looks startled but also grateful. “Thank  _you._ ”

I wipe my eyes and take a seat at the table. “Pass me that marker, will ya?”


	23. Simon Played Keyboard

Almost everyone who is attending the party has gathered around the bonfire. The luminaries that people have created are lined up on a table near the fire, the tea light candles inside each illuminating the art on the outside. Fittingly, Steven is the first to speak. “This is for Leon, and for Simon.” He pauses. “Simon played keyboard.” I smile sadly.

One by one, each person takes their luminary, speaks a few words, and throws it into the fire. I wait until those who were closest to the deceased have gone before I make my own statement. First, I look around the circle, pausing for just a split second on each person’s face, and quote a popular song: “We are family.” Then, in a more concise echo of the words Steven had shouted earlier that night, I add, “So,  _fucking act like it._ ” I’d meant to say more, to announce my decision to print an article in the Times and my wish to do more, but my throat closes up and my breath catches. Instead, I take a deep breath, toss my luminary into the fire, and step back to let someone else speak.


	24. Casual Cruelty

After the ceremony, the kitchen staff brings out a tray of the Saratogan’s infamous Green Drink. Kohana calls out to those gathered. “The color green holds the energy of life and growth.”

Kim, standing by his side, continues for him as the tray gets passed around. “We are survivors and in this green and growing place, we take health and life into our bodies.”

Kohana speaks again. “Drink and become vital, become vibrant.”

They speak the last word together: “Live!”

I haven’t tried it before, but when the tray comes around, I shrug and take a cup. I take a swig and almost gag.  _God, that’s foul._  I set the cup down gingerly and look around.

“Where’s Sinclair?” I say aloud, to no one in particular. I haven’t seen him in a while, which strikes me as unusual.

Francis, Artie’s best friend who happens to be standing nearby, answers me. “He got pretty high and wandered off somewhere.”

“What? Shit.” I take off down the path to find him.

Sinclair has not been doing well recently: he’s been fighting more and more often with his wife Mary, who keeps demanding that he spend less time campaigning and more time at home with her and their children. She doesn’t know that at least half the time he’s “campaigning,” he’s actually been at Club Diamond with Nate. And he’s been getting pushes from several of our friends to come out publicly, which he is not quite ready for. I know that he’s been feeling pulled in a hundred different directions, and lately he’s been turning to drugs to escape. I’ve been asking him to slow down, to no avail.

At this point I’m feeling pretty sober, though the Green Drink does seem to be having the effect of heightening my emotions. I’m worried about the article I’ve promised Ruben I’ll write, I’m worried about the spreading disease, and I’m worried about the friends who will inevitably get sick. But right now, I’m focused on worrying about Sinclair.

I peek into the Darkroom, but he’s not there. I head for the Pillow Room. I don’t bother taking my shoes off; I simply peek inside. He’s not there, either. I turn to check the private room that’s in the same cabin as the Pillow Room, and find myself face to face with Ike.

“Hey, Ike. Have you seen Sinclair?” I ask.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Ike says.

“Where is he? I’ve been looking all over for him. I heard that he was… not in a good place.”

Ike glances over his shoulder, then back at me. “He’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I realize that Ike is not just casually hanging out – he’s guarding the door.

I eye him suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. He’s with Ruben. They’re talking,” he says.

I relax. “Oh, okay. Good.” I trust Ruben. “Well, just… make sure he calls his wife, okay? She gets pretty upset when he’s out late and doesn’t call to tell the kids goodnight.” Ike nods, and I turn to go.

Just then, Chain walks in and marches straight up to Ike. “Where’s Sinclair? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s busy,” Ike says, firmly planting himself in front of the doorknob.

“Oh, come on,” Chain says. “I just want to talk to him.”

The door to the Pillow Room opens yet again. “Where is he?” Nate demands. Ike steps aside and lets Nate into the room he’d been guarding, then stands in front of it again, blocking Chain from following.

“What?” cries Chain. “Are you kidding me? Why does Nate get to go in?”

Ike sighs. “Because he’s Nate. Nate does what he wants.”

“What, does Sinclair need protecting? From  _you?_  You couldn’t even protect your own  _boyfriend_ from getting attacked,” Chain spits angrily.

Last New Year’s Eve, Ike and Ruben had ducked into an alley for a quick kiss. Unfortunately, they were spotted and attacked by some thugs who decided to “teach those fags a lesson.” In his fury and in trying to protect Ike, Ruben had ended up getting beaten so badly that he’d been airlifted to the hospital. He’d needed emergency surgery, and it was weeks before he could even speak. Even today, he still sometimes gets stuck on words or loses his balance.

I gasp at Chain’s callousness. I don’t know Chain well, but his words seem uncharacteristically cruel.

Ike shrugs, seemingly unperturbed by Chain’s comment. I hear a scramble behind the door, and Ruben bursts from the room. He advances on Chain, fists clenched. “ _What the FUCK did you just say to him?_ ” he snarls. He’s standing so close that I can see bits of spittle land on Chain’s face.

“Ruben,” I say softly, laying my hands on his fists and gently pushing his arms back down to his side. He ignores me.

“How fucking  _dare_ you. Don’t you  _ever_ speak to him like that.  _EVER_ ,” Ruben growls. His fists raise back up to his sides, and I push them down again before placing a hand on his shoulder. He is shaking with fury.

“Ruben,” I say again, gently. “Come on. You don’t want to do this.”

Thankfully, Chain seems to come to his senses. “You’re right. I should not have said that.” He turns to Ike.” I was very upset, but that’s not your fault. I’m very sorry.” He turns back to Ruben. “That was unfair of me. I apologize.”

Ruben scowls at Chain down for another moment without speaking, then turns and goes back into the room, pausing only to stroke Ike’s cheek briefly.


	25. Unsafe Flight

It’s very late when I finally leave the Pillow Room. The campground is quiet, and it seems that most people have gone to bed. I’m still a little wound up after witnessing Ruben and Chain’s confrontation, so I take a walk back to the main lodge. DJ Tony has packed up for the night, and the dance floor is dark. The bar is closed, and even the kitchen is locked. One of the cabin’s overhead lights are still on though, and I catch a small movement out of the corner of my eye.

“Charlotte?” I ask. “Wow, you’re awake?” I walk over to the table she’s at and sit down next to her.

“Well, I just finished my flight,” she says smugly.

“Your… flight?” I wonder if Charlotte has had a little too much Green Drink.

She laughs. “Yes, my flight. As in, a  _sampler,_  Katherine. Not an airplane.”

“ _Oh_!” I laugh too. “What were you sampling?”

“Sperm,” she answers matter-of-factly.

“I… what?”

She gives me a Look. “Oh, come on, Katherine. I told you – I want to have a baby. And just because it’s not going to be with Kimberly, doesn’t mean that I’m not still going to have one. So, I had my four men, and now I’m done.”

“ _Four?_  Oh god, Charlotte… were you unprotected?”

“Of course I was unprotected. I’m trying to get  _pregnant_.” Seeing the look of horror on my face, she assures me quickly, “But I’m done now.”

I flash back to the conversation I’d had with Santiago earlier that evening at the next table over, when she had chastised  _me_  for being unprotected  _and_  drunk. I feel guilty for making her worry, and I feel guilty for chastising Charlotte now.

“Okay,” I say reluctantly, “as long as you’re done. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get… sick.” I avoid naming the exact sickness that is on my mind.

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “The only sickness I’m going to get is baby crazy.” Then, she launches into excited chatter about baby names. I smile and start to feel a little excited for her. It  _will_ be nice to have some  _good_ news, for once.


	26. Sleeping Alone, Again

I head back to my cabin, finally ready for sleep. I’ve just finished changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth and arranging my blankets when Kimberly comes in. She gathers up her blankets and pillow.

“Where are you going?” I whisper curiously.

“To sleep in the Pillow Room,” she answers. “It’s more comfortable sleeping on the floor than on these horrible bed frames. Besides,” she flashes me a grin, “there are people to snuggle. You should come!”

I pause. “That’s… tempting.” I glance from Kimberly, to my cot, and back to Kimberly again. I yawn and take another step toward my cot.

“Seriously, you should come,” she says again.

“That is  _very_ tempting…” I say again. I take one more glance at her, then say, “Okay, fuck it. Wait for me.”

I gather up my blankets and pillow and follow Kimberly across the lawn, barefoot in the darkness. When I arrive, Santiago is there, gathering her things and putting on her shoes. Fernando lay in a corner, Nick massaging his back. Kimberly disappears into the private room.

“Hey, babe.” I greet her with a kiss. “I decided to sleep here. It will be more comfortable than the cots, and there’s so much room to snuggle! You should stay here with me.”

“Hmm, that sounds nice… but I promised Sorrento a quick chat before bed,” she says. Seeing my face fall in disappointment, she quickly says, “but I’ll come back. When I’m done.”

“Okay.” I kiss her again. “Goodnight.” I lay down and close my eyes, knowing full well that Santiago won’t be back tonight. My mind whirls, replaying the events of tonight over and over again in my head. I fall asleep to the sounds of Fernando and Nick whispering in the corner, feeling lonely and wishing that my girlfriend was there with me.


	27. No Escape From Death

I honestly don’t remember a lot about the morning after of 1983. It’s pretty hazy. I remember the ominous music, and I remember the Agents of Death demanding thirteen names instead of ten this time. I remember giving them three tickets again, especially since I’d been unprotected not only with women, but with men. I remember holding my breath as I listened to Pepper calling out people’s names. More than half of them were people that I knew and had recently interacted with in some way: Evelyn, Pen, Enrique, Mr T, Steven, Ruben, Abner, Trevor, Nick, Walter, Claire, Max… and Kimberly.

I remember my shock when I hear Kimberly’s name called, and my denial.  _There’s no way she’s going to die,_  I thought.  _She’s part of my group, one of my girls. I’m going to go down to the funeral field and she’s going to be fine._  I think I really believed that, too… right up until I saw her laying in her coffin.

I remember waiting as the music continued playing, the only sounds in the room sobs and people shuffling about as they hugged and consoled each other. I remember the feeling of suspense as I wait for the Agents to come back and escort us down to the field where we would learn who passed. I remember the feeling of dread as I pause to peek into each coffin. The first one I stop at is Abner’s. I barely knew him, but he was a friend of Santiago’s, and I’d recently chatted with him about the possibility of including one of his poems in the Times alongside Sinclair’s interview.

I fling a flower onto his chest angrily. “Fuck you, Abner. And I’m still going to print your–” my voice cracks, “–stupid poem.”

I know before I even get there. Kimberly is nowhere to be found… she’s in one of these other caskets. I find her just behind Abner’s and look down for a moment, sobbing. I place a flower gently on her unmoving chest. “You fucking moron!” I gasp out between sobs. “I  _told_ you to be  _careful!_ ” I am crying so hard that I can barely get the words out. But… it doesn’t matter.

The Agents call us back to begin the funeral. The Angel of Death stands before us once again. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Trevor.” It’s the same as last year: people hugging and sobbing. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Abner.” Grief, fear, determination, anger, sadness… all are present. “And we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Kimberly.” As tears stream down my face, all of my emotions war for dominance.

I wonder which one is going to win.


	28. Spending Pink Dollars

_In the time between 4th of July 1983 and New Year’s Eve 1984, there was a string of events that were not played out by actual scenes, but were decided by the players. Katherine decided to not only print one article in the Times, but to go out with a bang: she paid off some of the staff at NYT to help her publish an entire Sunday edition dedicated to educating people about the ongoing AIDS crisis. The front page headline splashed, “NYT Editor Katherine Stockton Comes Out As Lesbian”. Sinclair Everett also came out publicly, and the infamous interview with him was included in this issue. (He consequently was divorced by his wife Mary, who was awarded custody of their two young children.) There were obituaries and memorials for Simon, Leon, Trevor, Kimberly, and Abner – though oddly, Katherine never was able to find a copy of Abner’s poem that she’d promised to publish. Before Kimberly died, she headed out to San Francisco along with Eli and Dawn for a project photographing people in poverty and those who were sick and dying from AIDS. Sadly, she died before the project was finished – she got sick while on the road and passed away shortly after flying back to New York. Katherine included many of those pictures in the paper as well, along with a long memorial dedicated to her friendship with Kimberly. Included in the memorial was a picture of Katherine holding Cassandra Kimberly, Charlotte’s infant daughter, whose middle name was in honor of her late “Auntie.” Katherine was of course fired from her post at the Times, but she had been expecting it and was prepared. She freelanced a few articles for Out magazine with Nick’s help, as well for an LGBT magazine called The Advocate. When she wasn’t freelancing, she was writing grant proposals for the new Saratoga Center, and was spending most weekends on-site helping out with whatever needed doing. She had far less less money, but far more passion for her work, and she felt more alive than she had in years._


	29. Cameo: Mary Everett (Failed Marriage)

Luke, the player cast as Sinclair Everett, asked me to play his wife Mary in a black box scene. He knew what he wanted the  _outcome_ of the scene to be – that the marriage would end in divorce – but he wasn’t sure how it would play out. He wasn’t sure yet how he envisioned Mary’s character, if the breakup would be amicable or not, etc.

He’d also asked Jamey (AKA Simon and later Artie) to help by directing the scene. Jamey suggested that we start playing out a few scenes in several different ways, and that at key moments he would stop us and ask, “Is that how it happened?”

We started with Sinclair coming out to Mary. Mary was doing some chores in the kitchen when Sinclair comes home after a long weekend “campaigning.” Sinclair tries to come out to her, but she is in denial.

* * *

“I have to tell you something.” Sinclair says.

“What is it?” I dry my hands on a dish towel and turn to face him.

“It’s serious. You might want to sit down,” he says.

My eyes widen. “What is it? Are you sick? What’s going on?”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s not that.” He hesitates. “I’m just not sure how to say this.”

“Sinclair, you’re scaring me. Oh my god, is it drugs? It’s drugs, isn’t it?”

* * *

“CUT.” Jamey says. “Is that how it happened?”

Luke pauses very briefly, then says, “No.”

“Okay, let’s try it again.” Jamey turns to me. “This time, you’ll be angry.”

We start over.

* * *

“I have to tell you something.” Sinclair hesitates. “But I’m not sure how to say it.”

I dry my hands on a dish towel and turn to face him. “You’re gay.”

He gapes at me. “You knew?”

“Of  _course_ I knew,” I spit, my voice dripping with venom. He recoils as though I’ve hit him. “You haven’t touched me in  _years_.” Sinclair is silent as I glare at him. “Well? Do you have it?”

He looks perplexed for a second, then understanding dawns on his face. “ _No!_  Mary,  _no._ ” He reaches out for me, but I take a step back.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this  _now_.”

“I know. I’m sor–“

“Have you even thought about how this might affect our children, if this gets out? How do you think people will react? They’ll be laughingstocks. We  _all_  will.” Sinclair gapes at me, seemingly at a loss for words. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, but my anger takes control. “Get out.”

“Mary.” He takes another step toward me. “I–“

“Get. Out,” I say again, loudly and more forcefully. Sinclair freezes in shock. I lift one shaking hand and point to the door. “Get out,  _get out,_ GET OUT!”

* * *

“CUT.” Jamey’s voice interrupts the scene. “Is that how it happened?”

Sinclair looks down at his shoes sadly. “Yes,” he says softly.

We chat as players for another moment. For the next scene, we decide that the characters will reconcile and agree to stay together, for their children’s sake.

* * *

I enter the bedroom to put the laundry away and freeze when I find Sinclair in there, packing a bag. I hadn’t even heard him enter the house. We look at each other awkwardly. He places the pile of clothing from his hands into a suitcase that lay open on the bed. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I hesitate, then walk over and pick up some of the clothing from his suitcase. “What are you…” His voice trails off as I place it back inside the dresser drawer.

“We have to be strong. For the children.”

I can feel his eyes boring into me. “So… I can come back?”

My voice is quiet as I reply. “Yes.”

His relief is palpable, his body visibly relaxing. He moves closer and takes my hand, holding it in both of his own. “I’m going to be better. I’m going to spend more weekends at home. A  _lot_  more.”

I nod silently, sitting down stiffly on the bed. “And I want you to call your doctor. You need to get some help.”

“Yes, of course. Anything you want.” He kneels down in front of me. “Do you really want to do this? Can we be a family, for the children?”

I look into his earnest face. Pulling my hand away, I answer him honestly. “No. And yes.”

* * *

“CUT. Is that how it happened?”

Luke nods almost immediately. “Yes.”

Luke then points out that we still don’t have the desired outcome of the failed marriage, so we fast forward a few months. Sinclair has been home even less than he was before, if that’s even possible. At least half of that time really was for campaigning, but he’s been spending more and more time with Nate at Club Diamond. He comes home in the middle of the night, drunk.

* * *

I am laying in bed, wide awake, when I hear the front door open. I wait until Sinclair stumbles into the bedroom and closes the door behind him to speak.

I don’t move from my position on the bed. “Where have you been.” My tone is low and cold, more of an accusation than a question.

He jumps guiltily. “I was… campaigning,” he slurrs slightly.

“Bullshit,” I snap. “It’s 3am.” I sit up in bed, glaring at him. “You were at that bar again, weren’t you?”

He is silent. He doesn’t admit it, but he also doesn’t deny it.

“You missed your son’s baseball game,” I tell him. “ _Again_.”

He looks dejected. “I know. And I’m sorry–” he says again.

I cut him off. “How do you think this makes  _me_  feel?”

He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. “I can’t even imagine how you must feel right now,” he says softly.

* * *

“CUT.” Luke and I pause, glancing up at Jamey. “Switch places,” he says. Jamey points to Sinclair. “You’re now Mary.” He turns to me. “And you’re Sinclair.” My eyes widen.  _Brilliant!_  Luke and I switch places. “Now, pick up exactly where you left off.”

* * *

I shake my head sadly. “I can’t even imagine how you must feel right now.”

“I can’t do this anymore. You need to leave.”

“No. Mary, no. We can make this work.” I take a step toward her.

“Don’t touch me,” she hisses. I flinch. “We’re through. I want a divorce.”

“Mary…”

Her hands come up in front of her, and I watch in horror as she twists the wedding ring from her finger and flings it carelessly to the ground. As if in slow motion, it bounces off the wall and rolls under the bed.

“I’m keeping the house. And I’m taking the kids.”

At this, I fall apart. “No. No, no, no.  _please_ , no!” I’ve falled to my knees, begging and groveling at her feet. I don’t even remember how I got there.  _“You can’t do this to me!”_  I bawl. Mary steps away from me in disgust.  _“You can’t take my children away from me!”_

* * *

“CUT. Is that how it happened?”

Luke sniffles, wiping a tear from his eye. “Yes.”


	30. A Test You Can’t Study For

I almost miss the opening ceremonies again. I hurriedly shove my lipstick into my purse leave the bathroom, wading through the crowd to find Charlotte and Santiago. A couple of people do a double-take as I walk past, and I grin. I’m wearing a long-sleeved gold-colored shirt with decorative cut-outs around the collar. The shirt stops just above my midriff, and I’ve matched it with a pair of plain black slacks. It was not my usual style to show so much skin, but I am having fun showing off a little. Besides, I no longer have a job that I need to “look professional” for. What I didn’t tell people was that the shirt had actually been a loan from Kimberly, and this was my way of making sure she attended the party with us, at least in spirit.

This year, Terrence has arranged for HIV testing to take place on-site. Santiago and I decide to head over and get it out of the way at the beginning of the party. There is a long line of folks ahead of us. We’ve both been safe since the debacle last year, but sitting in the waiting room is still nerve-wracking. I am next in line when I see Sinclair rush through the waiting room. He doesn’t even notice us sitting there. A moment or two later I see Nate rush through the room after him. I turn and give Santiago a worried look, opening my mouth to speak.

“The doctor will see you now,” says the nurse.

I stand up, and Santiago also stands. I turn to her. “It’s okay. I can go by myself.”

“I’m coming with you,” she says. Her voice is insistent.

I sigh. “I don’t need–” I stop when I look at her face, seeing the fear behind her eyes. I nod. “Okay.”

The nurse leads us into a room where the doctor is waiting. “Hello. Please have a seat. Can you confirm your name?” His bedside manner is cold, brusque. I pretend that I’m not bothered by it, and cover up my nervousness.

“Katherine Stockton.”

“And why are you here?”

“For the AIDS testing,” I say.

He studies me. “Hmm.” His face is expressionless, but I can’t help feeling judged. “Tell me about your habits.”

I take a deep breath. “Well, I’ve had some unprotected sex over the years, since the outbreak started. Mostly with women, but last year there were a few men…” my voice trails off. I’m still embarrassed about that night, especially with Santiago standing next to me.

“I see,” the doctor says. “And this is your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been together?” he asks.

“About three years now,” I answer.

“And you’re exclusive?”

“Well, no… but it’s pretty much just women.” The doctor is scribbling in his notebook and nods without looking up.

“We’re going to do a few tests.” He takes a few vials of blood and hands them to his assistant. The assistant leaves the room while the doctor scribbles some notes and Santiago and I wait silently.

A few moments later the assistant returns, handing the doctor a small slip of paper. The doctor reads it and then looks up at me. He is not smiling, and my heart skips a beat. “I have good news,” he says. I breathe a sigh of relief and sag slightly in my chair as he tells me that my results are negative. Santiago squeezes my hand, and I stand to let her take my seat.

The doctor goes through the same questions with Santiago, and takes her blood. I know that I’ve been riskier than her, so I’m pretty sure that she is fine… but I still let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding when the doctor tells her she’s negative.

We walk back through the waiting room into the hallway, giddy with relief. “Let’s wait for Charlotte and Sorrento,” Santiago says, gesturing towards the window that shows who is still waiting.

I nod. “Of course.”

A few moments later, Charlotte walks out. “Negative.”

“Thank goodness!” I hug her. “Santiago is just waiting for Sorrento, and then we can–” I stop when I see Claire over Charlotte’s shoulder. She’s walking slowly, looking dazed.

“Claire?” I ask. She looks up, and her face immediately crumples.  _Oh, no._ I embrace her. “Oh, honey.” I stroke her hair. “It will be okay. We’ll take care of you. We all will.” I step back and Charlotte and Santiago also hug her, trying to sound reassuring.

Charlotte walks Claire back towards the party while I wait with Santiago for Sorrento. When he finally comes out, we look at him expectantly. He starts talking about something else when Santiago interrupts him. “So are you…”

He hesitates for a few seconds. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head. “Negative.” I turn away to roll my eyes at his nonchalance.


	31. Dim Stars

I’ve brought some silly stickers with me to the party, stars with a pattern of the American Flag. In good spirits, I walk around and put one on each person I see.

I spot Claire sitting off to the side with a woman I’ve never seen before. “You are a bright, shining star, and don’t you ever forget it,” I say gently.

“My star is burning out,” she says sadly.

“No. It’s brighter than ever,” I say fiercely. “You have much energy left, and you’re going to use it to change the world. No,  _we_ are going to,” I correct myself. Claire laughs through her tears.

“And I’ve never met you before, but I’m sure you’re a star, too,” I say, smiling at the stranger as I affix a sticker to the front of her shirt.

“This is Chantelle. She’s a pop star, and part of the Saratoga group. But she hasn’t been here in a few years. And this is Katherine,” Claire introduces us. “Katherine used to work for the Times, but now she’s part of the team that’s helping get this place re-opened.”

I shake Chantelle’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Man, it’s such a shame that you’re turning this place into a clinic!”

I freeze. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean, this is such a great party. It’s too bad that this is the last one,” Chantelle says.

“This won’t be the last party,” I say carefully. “We will still have parties. It will just be… different.”

“Well, yeah! That’s what I mean. You’ll have all those sick people here. Don’t get me wrong, what you’re doing is like, really noble or whatever,” she says, “but it seems like a waste to give up such a good party!”

“Uhh…” I’m dumbfounded. “Okay, well… it was nice meeting you.” I walk away before I say something I know I’ll regret.


	32. Katherine’s Plan

“You’re a star,” I tell Joani, putting a sticker on her collar.

“You’re a star!” I tell Steven, putting one on his leather vest.

Artie watches, bemused, as I tell Francis, “You’re a star!” and press a sticker to the front of each his shirt. I turn to Artie and and smile back at him. “And  _you_ ,” I say, putting a sticker on his shirt, “are my world.” I kiss his cheek.

“Awww, Katherine,” he says, hugging me.

“Oh! By the way… I wanted to show you this.” I look around to make sure no one else is watching, and pull a jewelry box from my pocket. “What do you think?”

He peers inside to see a gold band and a large “M” glittering with diamonds. “Oh, Katherine! It’s beautiful!”

Francis’ eyes widen. He comes closer and whispers, “Is that what I think it is?” I nod. “Wow! Congratulations!” He shakes my hand.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling from ear to ear. “I haven’t asked her yet, but… tonight. At dinner.”


	33. Fresh Meat

“Hey, Katherine,” Charlotte sidles up alongside me. “Have you met the new girls yet?”

“Yeah, briefly. I didn’t catch that one’s name–”

“Beatrice,” Charlotte interrupts.

“Right. And the other one is Chantelle. I met her earlier.”

“And?” Charlotte looks at me expectantly.

“And, she’s dumb as a bag of rocks. She’s only interested in partying, and said some pretty offensive things about us reopening the Saratoga Center next year. And yes, she’s straight,” I add, as Charlotte takes a breath to speak. “She’s here with her husband.”

“Pity. She’s cute,” Charlotte says, staring at her.

I shrug. “Anyways… we are all set for tonight, right? You and Artie are making sure everyone will be there?”

“ _Yes._  I told you not to worry,” Charlotte says.

“Here, what do you think of my speech?” I hold out a small pad of paper. Charlotte takes it from me. As she reads it, she clasps a hand to her chest.

“Katherine. This is  _perfect_ ,” she says.

“I hope so,” I say.


	34. A Happy Beginning

As the dinner bell rings and everyone files in, I keep checking my pocket obsessively, feeling for the ring. I grab a burger and sit with Charlotte.

“Are you sure the speech is okay?” I ask nervously.

“It’s fine. You’re gonna be fine,” Charlotte says, patting my shoulder.

“Should I do it now? Everyone’s here. But they’re not sitting.”

“No, you should wait until people are sitting and eating,” says Charlotte, looking around.

I take a bite of my burger and immediately feel nauseous.  _I can’t eat. I’m too nervous. God, my hands are shaking. What if she hates it? What if she says no?_  Santiago catches my eye from the table where she’s sitting with her Literary Circle friends and smiles at me.  _Oh my god. I can’t do this._

I look around. “Now?” I ask Charlotte.

She glances around the room. “Yes. Now.”

I take a deep breath, stand up, and stand on a chair. “Excuse me! May I have everyone’s attention, please?” A few people have glanced up and begin hushing each other. “Could we turn the music off for a few minutes, please?” I call over to Tony. He complies.

I take another deep breath and begin to speak. “As you all know, it’s been a rough couple of years. We’ve all lost people who are dear to us: Simon, Leon, Trevor, Abner, and of course, Kimberly.” I pause. You could hear a pin drop.

“But with tragedy comes change,” I continue, “and rebellion, and friendship… and love.” I look around the room at the familiar faces, of friends I’ve known for years and years. “I’ve given each of you a sticker to remind you that we are  _not_ friends.” I pause for emphasis. “We’re  _family_.”

I rush into my next line, sensing applause and not wanting to lose my flow. “Speaking of family… Artie and Charlotte have been my rocks for as long as I can remember.” I smile at each of them in turn, holding a hand over my heart. “But I couldn’t have gotten through the last year without Santiago.” My voice shakes slightly as I let my eyes finally land on her. “Can you come up here, please?” I watch her expression change from one of pride, to surprise.

I hop down from the chair as she stands up and makes her way over to me. “Katherine, what are you–” she whispers. I step backwards before she can finish, reaching into my pocket.

“I love you,” I say clearly, my voice surprisingly steady and confident. “And I can’t imagine life without you.” All traces of doubt gone now that Santiago is finally in front of me, I get down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes widen and her hands fly to her mouth as the crowd erupts into chaos. I can’t make anything out; all I hear is noise and the rush of blood in my ears.

She says something, but I don’t hear her over the sound of my own heart pumping. I look at her blankly. She steps forward and pulls me to my feet. “Yes! Katherine,  _yes!_ ” She pulls my face to hers, and I wrap my arms around her. I’m dimly aware of people hooting and hollering around us as our lips meet. When she finally pulls away, I take her hand and slip the ring onto her finger.


	35. Still Got It

This year, the drag show has a mixture of sad, funny, and poignant acts. Marcie goes first, which is astonishing in and of itself – Nate usually opens the show himself. I’ve never really spoken with Marcie outside of our encounter backstage last year, and I am surprised when she announces to the audience that she’s positive. She cleverly pounds that point home with a play on the words: “Some of us are going to get sick: I’m positive. Some of us are going to die: I’m positive.” She launches into a heartbreaking rendition of Amazing Grace. After a few bars, the audience joins in and finishes the song with her. The mood is melancholy when she leaves the stage, but that changes quickly when the Queen of Manhattan comes out (so to speak). She performs beautifully as usual, and is just as sassy as ever. Mary Lou performs again this year, and this time receives a standing ovation.  _She’s really going places,_ I think.  _She’ll be on the radio soon!_

Next, in an interesting juxtaposition from Mary Lou’s performance, the sounds of pop music fill the room. Chantelle bounces out from behind the curtain to perform Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” When she starts pulling people from the audience to dance with her, Santiago mutters, “Oh,  _hell_ no.” She leans over to me. “If she tries to get me up there, I’m sending you. There is  _no way_  I’m getting on that stage.” I laugh. True to her word, when Chantelle takes Santiago’s hand and tries to tug her on stage, she places my hand into Chantelle’s and shrinks away. Laughing, I allow her to pull me onto the stage. I aggressively dance very close to her, dipping her at the end of the song, and dance her off the stage still holding her very close. I wave at the audience as we disappear backstage.

I push Chantelle up against a wall and lean in to kiss her. She kisses me back, but after a moment she pulls away abruptly, looking behind me. I turn around and see a man dressed in a bright orange cut-off tshirt.

“Hey babe. This is Katherine. Katherine, this is Sterling – my husband.” Both Chantelle and Sterling seem unperturbed by the strange situation.

“Hello!” says Sterling.

“Hi there,” I say. I glance back at Chantelle. “So, did you want to continue…?”

She glances at her husband, but I shake my head. “Not him. Just you.”

“I can just watch,” Sterling interrupts. “I mean, if that’s cool with you.” He sounds eager.

I look back at Chantelle, who shrugs. “Okay, sure,” I say. “But let’s go outside, where it’s dark. Everyone else is inside watching the show, so it will be more private.”

They follow me outside via the stage door. I waste no time in pushing Chantelle up against the side of the lodge. I’m feeling aggressive tonight. My left hand holds her there by her throat as my right hand scratches her leg gently, starting at her knee and trailing up her inner thigh. I watch her face as my hand snakes up her skirt, and…  _oh._

“No panties, huh? You must have been  _hoping_ for some action tonight.” She gasps as my fingers make contact with her wetness.

I hear the rustling of clothing behind me. I’d forgotten Sterling was there.

“You love showing off for him, don’t you?” I taunt as I penetrate her. “Teasing him, showing him what he can’t touch?” I remove my hand from her neck and lean forward to nibble  the sensitive skin just behind her ear. She moans. I blow softly into her ear and pinch a nipple through her dress. I can hear wet, slapping sounds behind me. “Your husband is going to cum watching his wife get fingered by a lesbian,” I whisper into her ear.

Music is blaring from the window above us, and I can hear people hooting, “Yeah Reginald,  _WOOO_!” Chantelle’s breath becomes shorter. She’s getting close. I keep fucking her while I play with her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps. Her hands clench into fists.

I can hear Nate thanking Reginald for his act just as Chantelle starts moaning her orgasm.  _I guess she’s a screamer._ She pounds the window frame as she cums, and I can hear Sterling moaning behind me. “That’s it, straight girl. Cum for me.” I grin to myself.  _I’ve still got it._


	36. It’s About Time

After the drag show, I am sitting at one of the tables outside when Artie appears next to me, beaming, and trailed by Francis.

“What’s up?” I ask. “You look happy.”

“Well,” he says, “umm… “ He blushes slightly and glances at Francis, who is smiling shyly.

I look from Artie to Francis and back to Artie again, a smile spreading across my face. “You know… it’s about time! I always knew you two were meant to be together. I’m just glad you finally figured it out.” I laugh at the stunned look on his face. I hug him and kiss his cheek, then turn to Francis. “You’re good for him,” I say, sticking out my hand to shake. “Besides… it’s good to have someone to distract him and keep him out of my hair!”

“Hey!” Artie protests, laughing.

Francis accepts my handshake. “Thank you.”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “You’d  _better_ be good for him,” I warn, but my eyes twinkle when I say it, and he laughs.


	37. Max’s Mistake

I am sitting on chair on the back steps with a white paper bag and a marker, writing a letter to Kimberly on my luminary when sudden shouting jars me from my thoughts.

_“HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!”_ I look up to see what the commotion is. Santiago has climbed on top of one of the picnic tables, and her fists are flying.

Without thinking, I scramble over and physically pull her off of whoever she’s pummeling. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Several others have also run over to pull the two apart. As Sorrento, Enrique and I pull Santiago down from the table, Joani and some other Saratogans have appeared to help Max.

“You stay the  _fuck_ away from me! How  _dare_ you!  _You’re_ the reason she’s dead!” Santiago is yelling. I place myself physically in front of her to keep her from jumping on top of him again. “He asked me where Kimberly was,” she says loudly to the rest of us, still glaring at him. “It’s  _his_ fault she isn’t here! He’s the one who claimed he used a condom and then didn’t!” She’s shouting again.

Max is escorted away by his friends to another table as Sorrento and I lead Santiago a few feet away onto the wet grass. “What the hell was that?” I ask.

“I told you,” she says angrily. “He asked where Kimberly is. It’s  _his_ fucking fault she’s not here. Everyone knows how he told her he was wearing a condom and then didn’t. And she’s dead, and he has the fucking  _gall_ to ask where she is?”

I sigh. “Okay. I understand.” I stand there quietly for a few moments as her anger subsides and the chatter around us resumes. I quietly sneak away back towards the bonfire as Santiago and Sorrento are engrossed in conversation, my eyes scanning the partygoers. My eyes finally rest on Max, who is sitting across on the other side of the fire.

“Hey, Max?” I say casually as I stroll over. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He blinks up at me, looking surprised. “Yeah, sure.”

I raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t move. “Alone?”

“Oh! Umm, sure.” He stands up from the table.

I look around for a quiet place to chat, and settle on walking a few feet into the dark by the trees, just out of earshot. I turn to face him. He looks at me expectantly. I take a step closer to him and poke my right index finger into his chest as I speak. “Look. I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, but you’re lucky that  _all_ she did was punch you,” I spit. “You have some fucking nerve, asking her about Kimberly like that.”

He pales. “I’m sorry,” he says, shrinking away from me.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. You stay the hell away from her. Because next time, I won’t stop her.” My anger is cold and controlled, surprising even myself.

“I–I’m s-s-sorry,” he stutters again. He cowers a little.

“Sorry doesn’t bring Kimberly back from the dead,” I hiss. He recoils as if I’ve slapped him. I am still poking at his chest for emphasis. “It’s  _your_ fault she died.” Max is quiet, cowering wide-eyed in front of me.

“Stay the  _fuck_ away from  _me_ , and  _my family_.” I glare at him again for another second before I turn on my heel and stalk away without a backwards glance, leaving him in the shadows.

I head back to Santiago, who is still chatting with Sorrento over on the grass where I’d left her. “Max won’t be a problem anymore,” I tell her.

“What? What do you mean?” she asks.

“I took care of him. He won’t be bothering us again.” I shrug at the suspicious look she gives me. “I just told him to stay away from you, is all. I’m gonna go finish my luminary.” I go back to my abandoned paper bag and pick up my marker to finish the letter I am writing to Kimberly.

Tagged [Enrique](https://savvyseductress.wordpress.com/tag/enrique/), [Joani](https://savvyseductress.wordpress.com/tag/joani/), [Kimberly](https://savvyseductress.wordpress.com/tag/kimberly/), [Max](https://savvyseductress.wordpress.com/tag/max/), [Santiago](https://savvyseductress.wordpress.com/tag/santiago/), [Sorrento](https://savvyseductress.wordpress.com/tag/sorrento/)   



	38. Ashes

The ceremony with the luminaries is very similar to last year’s, except that I am feeling the pain of loss a lot more acutely. My face is somber as my eyes scan the table filled with drawings, letters, and memories of those we’ve lost.

As we gather around the bonfire, Francis begins to sing:  _“We rise again from ashes, from the good we’ve failed to do…”_ His voice is sweet and pure. One by one, people step forward and toss their luminaries into the flames.  _“We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew…”_

I decide not to read my letter to Kimberly aloud; it’s too private. In it, I admit that right after she died, I was really angry with her for not being safer. I tell her how much I miss her salacious grin and goofy jokes. And I promise her that that I am going to make the world a better place, in her honor.

In the surrounding silence, Francis’ voice sounds louder than it actually is.  _“If all the world is ashes, then must our lives be true…”_

When it’s my turn, I step forward, clutching my luminary tightly. I pause and take a deep breath, my heart aching, before throwing it into the flames. I watch them envelop the paper bag, my words scorching and turning into ash and smoke.

_“An offering of ashes, an offering to you.”_


	39. It’s Not A Party Until…

I am hanging out on the back porch when Enrique, Claire, Pen, Sorrento, Nate, and Sinclair. “Heyyy, Katherine… you busy?” Enrique asks.

I study the group. Claire is watching the exchange and giggling. “Umm… not really. I was just dancing. Why, what’s up?”

“Well, a few of us,” Enrique gestures toward his entourage, “were thinking about going over to the Darkroom.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Okay… so?”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to come along.” He tilts his pocket toward me, and I see that it’s stuffed full of condoms.

I laugh and I glance over my shoulder at Santiago. “I might be convinced. Is this party invite-only?” Santiago catches my eye and comes over.

“What’s happening over here?” she asks, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Enrique’s just invited us to a little gathering over in the Darkroom,” I answer, nodding my chin towards the pocket that he is still displaying.

“Oh, _fuck_ yes!” Santiago exclaims.


	40. Maria

Like a literal sex magnet, the group gets larger and larger as we walk over to the Darkroom. All told, we wind up with fourteen people: myself, Santiago, Enrique, Claire, Sam, Pen, Sorrento, Chain, Sinclair, Charlotte, Lawrence, Chantelle, Morgan, and Rain.

When we get there, Enrique empties his pockets and shouts, “Enjoy!” as condoms go flying everywhere. There is a chorus of laughter, and people begin taking over benches and corners. There is a rustling of clothing and the wet sounds of people kissing and licking and sucking each other. At one point, someone calls out, “Who wants to be spit roasted?” and I laugh as Santiago eagerly volunteers. I am gazing at my fiance, enjoying watching her when I hear Lawrence say to Rain, “Don’t ever call me Larry while my fist is in your ass!” Morgan and Chain co-top Claire and Chantelle for a while, and Rain receives one of his infamous “poetry blowjobs,” reciting poetry in between grunts and thrusts. Everyone is enjoying themselves, but it’s not just the sex. There is a camaraderie that permeates the room. A few years ago, this would have felt like a bunch of strangers fucking. It still would have been hot, but this is different. This is a room full of friends and lovers, people who care a great deal about each other, who are not there just to get off. It feels like a community.

Suddenly, a fist grasps my hair and hauls me up from the leather bench I was sitting on. I gasp, a tingle traveling through my body that starts at the hand on my scalp and settles in my loins. Santiago drags me to the center of the room and pushes me down to my knees. “Time to show everyone that you belong to me.” She says something else, but it doesn’t register. It doesn’t matter. I know what she wants.

I grasp her hips and lean forward, purposely letting my hot breath fall against her pussy before I even touch her with my mouth. I kiss her outer lips softly, then open my mouth and lick at them gently. I hear her suck in her breath, and I grin. I love having that effect on her. Parting her lips with my tongue, I begin lapping at her clit. She moans above me and clutches my hair, pushing my face harder between her legs. I tense up the tip of my tongue and swipe it up and down, just the way I know she likes it. After a few moments, I can tell she’s getting close. I slide a finger inside, then another, and fuck her with my hand while she humps my mouth. She convulses around my hand, smothering my face as she cums. I wait until I’m sure she’s finished before removing my fingers.

As soon as she catches her breath, she pulls me up and kisses me passionately. “My turn.” She drops to her knees to return the favor.

“Oh, god,” I cry out as her tongue quickly finds my clit. Hearing her cum has me so turned on already that I’m cumming in less than a minute. “Oh– oh, god– yes, yes– Maria!” I gasp out. “Maria, oh, fuck, yes, please, ahh, god!”  My nails dig into her shoulders as my body shudders. “Maria, Maria, oh,  _fuck_ , Ma–Ma– _MARIAAAAAA!_ ”

I’m leaning against her, still catching my breath, when I dimly hear a voice somewhere in the room ask, “Who the fuck is Maria?”


	41. Katherine To The Rescue

I am walking back towards the main lodge to see if anyone is still dancing when I spy Sinclair and Chain along the path, and stop to say hello. “Hey, guys!,” I say, smiling. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” says Sinclair flatly. Chain doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns so that his back is toward us and stares off into the distance.

“Hi, Chain,” I try again. “How’s it going?”

Chain stalks off in the direction of the Pillow Room. Sinclair and I exchange a look.

“Uhh… is everything okay?” I ask. “What did I just miss?”

“He says he wants to talk to me,” Sinclair answers.

“Oh. About what?”

“I don’t know!” he says, sounding frustrated. “I tried to ask him and he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Okay, that’s… weird,” I say.

“Yeah.” He’s looking at the ground, and angrily kicks a stone that is laying on the path. “I just don’t know what to think. I don’t know what he could possibly want to say to me. I’m with Nate now.”

“Wait… back up. I think I’m missing something here,” I say.

“I kissed him once, a few years ago. It was stupid, and I shouldn’t have done it. I was fighting with Nate, and I was high, and… ugh,”  he says, shaking his head in annoyance. “It was wrong of me. And apparently it was a big deal to him, because that was two years ago, and he’s still upset.”

He is quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Do you think I should talk to him?” he asks me in a small voice. I follow his gaze to a small clearing beyond the trees; the same clearing where the Saratogans have their ritual or whatever every year. Chain is leaning up against a tree, staring out into the darkness. He looks miserable.

“Well,” I say carefully. “Do you think we should just leave him there?” I don’t know Chain well, and in fact have barely ever exchanged more than a few words with him. Every time I’ve seen him he’s been smiling, laughing, happy-go-lucky. But this year, he’s looked mostly sad and angry. Something about the look of defeat on his face and the way he is staring off into the forest  makes me worried about leaving him there by himself.

“I don’t  _want_ to talk to him,” Sinclair says glumly, looking at the ground again.

“Do you want  _me_ to talk to him?” I offer. He looks up and seems to be seriously considering the idea. “I mean…” I continue, “I don’t really know him, so I have no idea how he will react, or if he will even speak to me at all.  We’re essentially strangers. But who knows, that might make it easier for him.” I shrug. “I really have no idea.”

Sinclair studies me for a moment, then sighs. “No. I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to be alone with him. I’m not sure what he might do.”

“Do you think he might attack you?” I ask.

“No. I’m afraid he’ll try to kiss me.”

We are both silent for a moment.

“Would you rather I just come with you while you talk to him?” I ask gently.

He looks relieved. “Yes. That’s a good idea. I just need to have someone there, just in case he… you know.”

“I know.”

We start to head over to the clearing. As we get closer, I instinctively slow down. I feel like we are chasing a scared rabbit, and that the rabbit is going to run away any second.

“Maybe I should hang back and just watch. I’ll stay close so I can see what’s happening. But he may not talk with both of us there.” Sinclair nods without looking at me. He continues walking over to Chain as I veer left and hover near the door of the Pillow Room, pretending to be waiting for someone.

Sinclair stops carefully, several feet from Chain. I can’t hear them, but I am watching their body language. Chain is sullen, and shrugs a lot. Sinclair is gesturing and looking frustrated. After a few minutes Sinclair turns and starts walking away, saying, “Fine. If you don’t want to talk, then–”

Chain interrupts him, but I can’t hear what he says. Sinclair stops and goes back. People entering and exiting the Pillow Room give me curious looks, but I just smile and pretend to be looking around for someone.

After about ten minutes, the two of them start walking down the path in the direction of the main lodge. I try to discretely follow behind them. When they stop in the middle of the path and continue talking, I walk casually past them, pretending that I’m just wandering through the campground. A moment or two later Chain passes me, and I turn and make my way back to Sinclair.

“How’d it go?” I ask.

“It was… okay,” he says. “He wanted to talk about what happened, and explain why he was hurt. I apologized, but I explained that I’m with Nate now. He wasn’t too happy about that. But I think he’s accepted it. He seemed more cheerful, anyway.” He turns and hugs me. “Thanks for being here for me. I’m gonna go to bed now.”

“Of course!” I exclaim. “That’s what friends are for, and all that shit, right?”


	42. T and Me

Once Sinclair has headed back to his cabin, I peek into the Pillow Room. Fernando is there, but it is otherwise empty. “Quiet in here,” I remark.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think everyone else has headed off to bed.”

“Hmm. I’m not ready for bed yet. I’m gonna take a stroll around and see if I can find anyone.”

“I just did that a little while ago. I guess it’s possible, but seems unlikely,” he says.

“Couldn’t hurt,” I say.

I stop in the Darkroom first. The lurid gay porn is still playing, but the cabin is otherwise empty. I’ve never seen it so quiet; it’s almost creepy. I walk back out and head over to the main lodge. The grounds are quiet. I’ve resigned myself to heading back to the Pillow Room and sleeping alone, but stop in the main lodge anyway, just to make sure. I am surprised when I hear voices talking quietly.

“Hello?” I call out.

“Hey, babe,” I hear Santiago’s voice from one of the tables in the back. She is sitting and chatting with Sorrento. I sit down next to her and lay my head on her shoulder as she and Sorrento chat. A few moments later, Nick and Terrence walk in.

“Hey guys,” says Terrence. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m just waiting for my fiance to come to bed,” I answer. “What have  _you_ two been up to?” Nick flushes, and I laugh. I stand up. “I’m going to sleep,” I say, kissing Santiago’s forehead. “I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll be in the Pillow Room, if you want to join me.”

“Is that invitation open to the public?” Terrence teases.

“Sure,” I say, “The Pillow Room is public domain. There’s plenty of room!”

“That sounds like it could be fun,” says Santiago, looking around. “Let’s all go!”

“Yeah, why not?” says Terrence. Nick shrugs.

I raise an eyebrow. “You fags wanna come cuddle with the lesbians tonight?”

“Not me,” says Sorrento. “You guys have fun!”

The four of us traipse off to the Pillow Room, which is empty.  _I guess Fernando found something else to do after all_ , I think to myself. I lay down with the pillow and blanket that I’d dropped off earlier. Santiago lays on one side of me, Terrence on the other. Nick lays on the other side of Santiago.

I turn onto my side and snuggle into Santiago, facing Terrence. Nick and Santiago are deep in conversation. I’m tired, but content to stay awake and chat now that I’m finally horizontal.

“So, you and Nick, huh?” I grin.

“Yeah, well. You know me…” he says.

“I sure do!” I answer. “You  _are_ the founder of these parties, after all.”

He is quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder if they were a mistake. With all of the sex and everything…” his voice trail off.

“ _No_ ,” I say emphatically. “Terrance, these parties are where so many people have met and developed friendships and relationships. Hell, it’s where Santiago and I finally got together, and it’s where I proposed to her. Did you think that was spur of the moment?”

He smiles. “No, I guess not. Charlotte would never let you do something so big without planning every moment of it.”

“So true!” I pause, then reach out and take his hand. “It’s not your fault, you know, I say softly. “The disease? It would have spread regardless. But your parties brought people together.”

He squeezes my hand briefly. “They brought Kimberly and I together,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “She told me.”

He is twisting one of the rings he always wears, and I am suddenly nervous. Terrence never fidgets. “Terrance?”

“I’m positive,” he blurts out.

I freeze in shock. “What?”

“Yeah. I found out earlier today. I don’t expect to be around much longer, honestly.”

I feel as though the wind has been knocked out of me. Terrance? He’s one of my oldest friends. He’s a condescending know-it-all pain in my ass, but he’s my friend, and I can’t imagine the world without him.

“Don’t cry,” he says. “It will be okay.”

“I’m not–” I blink. Shit. I am. I wipe my eyes furiously. “This sucks.”

“It does,” he agrees.

“We’re gonna find a cure, though. We’re gonna get this place opened up and then–”

“Let’s not worry about the future,” he interrupts me. “Let’s enjoy the here and now.” He leans forward and kisses me.

I’m overwhelmed at the sudden surge of passion and tenderness that flows through my body. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms around him tightly.

“I don’t want to– can we just–” I struggle to find the right words.

“Of course,” he says. Changing the subject, he says, “Hey, did you see the shirt Eli was wearing earlier?”

We talk all night. It starts getting light out before my eyelids become too heavy to keep open anymore, and I succumb to a restless sleep.


	43. Ring of Remembrance

I am woken by a voice snarling, “That’s the last time I take care of  _him_!” I open my eyes to see Fernando angrily throwing a blanket at Santiago and Nick before stalking out.

“What was  _that_ about?” I ask sleepily.

“Nothing,” Nick mutters. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I yawn and stand up. “Suit yourself. I’m gonna get dressed and head over to breakfast before all the coffee is gone.”

When I arrive at the main cabin, Morgan is snapping pictures. People keep calling her name and posing. They are smiling, but there is a sense of urgency about it. “It’s the last big party for a while,” she explains. “And some of us might not be here for the next one.”

“That’s a great idea,” I say. “Would you actually mind getting a few with me and Santiago? Like… engagement photos?”

“Sure!” she says.

I grab Santiago and pull her over. She rolls her eyes, but agrees to pose for  a few pictures. I also get a few with Artie, Charlotte, and Sinclair.

“Thanks, Morgan!” She gives me a thumbs up and walks off, her camera still making popping sounds.

I start heading back inside to get a plate but pause when I see Terrence sitting on the steps. I sit down next to him. “Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” he says back. He’s twisting one of his rings again. We sit together in silence for a few moments.

“Nice ring,” I say nodding towards it.

He hesitates, then takes it off and hands it to me. “Take it,” he says. “I can’t bring it with me where I’m going, anyway.”

“Terrence–”

“What’s for breakfast?” he interrupts me.

“Terrence. Stop it. You  _are_ going to survive this,” I say fiercely.

“No, I’m not, and we both know it. So let’s just stop pretending. I’ve got my affairs in order; I’ve made sure that Morgan and some of the Saratogans are on the lease. I’m making sure that things continue once I’m gone. And besides,” he says, gesturing toward the ring in the palm of my hand, “let’s face it – that’s gonna look a lot better on you.”

I stop arguing – everyone knows that there is no arguing with Mr T. “Fine,” I say. I slip the ring on my middle finger and flip him the bird with it. “Now let’s go get some food.”


	44. The End of The Beginning

The Agents of Death are restless and agitated. They demand fifteen names this time, and are shouting at us to finish “quickly, quickly!”

I was pretty safe last year, so I only add my name once. I am sitting, as usual, with Santiago. The dreaded “death music” plays on loop. Instead of choosing names from the hat and reading them immediately, the Agents take the hat and exit the cabin, leaving us to look around at each other, wondering what was happening. At first, I expect them to come back and tell us who they will be taking. But they don’t.

I glance around the room at each person, wondering how I’d feel if they were called. As my eyes rest briefly on each person, I have the sudden realization that there is not one table in the entire room that doesn’t have at least one person I care deeply about sitting there. My chest feels tight, and tears are already cascading down my cheeks. No, I think, I don’t want to lose anyone else. But I know that I can’t stop Death.

I stand up, wanting to hug my friends. I find Charlotte sitting next to Sorrento and lean down to embrace them both, tears running down my face.

When I straighten up, Nate approaches me. He straightens my shirt collar and smooths my hair, murmuring a soft, “There you go,” before moving on to someone else.

The next person I spot is Ike sitting at the table across from Charlotte. I go over and hug him tightly. He hugs me back. When I finally take a step back, he gives me a sad half-smile. I give the same sort of smile back and nod before squeezing his shoulder, speaking without words.

I look around for Artie. We make eye contact and immediately walk towards each other. He envelops me in a bear hug, and I squeeze him back.

I make my way around the room like this, stopping every few feet for a long, tearful hug. Saying goodbye is too much for me to bear thinking about: I’m simply looking to both give and receive comfort.

Nate is staring out the window, pretending to fix his hair as he wipes tears from his cheeks. I can tell that he is trying to be strong for everyone else. I go over and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he turns back around, his face is once again calm and composed. He wipes a tear from my cheek with a finger and smooths my hair again, smiling sadly. “There. All better,” he says soothingly, and turns from me to do the same for someone else.

I let him go. I can tell that he’s struggling not to lose it.

Finally, the Agents return. “Follow us,” one of them says. No names are called.

Together, we trudge toward the field where the coffins lay in the sunshine. The beautiful day seems almost mocking. I walk slowly, terrified to see whose names would be in those coffins. We are told to remain in a single file line. People are sobbing ahead of me. Dragging my feet, I take a deep breath and approach.

First, I see Eli and Max. I find no comfort or relief in seeing people I was not close with. Death is death.

The next name I see is Nate’s.  _Oh, god. Not him._  I begin sobbing in earnest.

I keep walking, tears blurring my vision. The next coffin is Steven’s. I feel a small gut-punch upon seeing his name.

And lastly, Nick. Another friend.

I weep into a tissue forlornly, circling the coffins and and making my way back to the grassy field so that others can see who we’ve lost.

I am distracted from my own grief by a loud keening. It’s Sinclair. “ _NO!_ ” he wails. His face is bright red and crumpled in grief, and he is barely able to stand. He is being held up by Ike and Ruben who stand on either side of him as he reaches out for Nate. I immediately go over to comfort him, but… how does one comfort a friend who has just lost the love of their life? I reach out and hug him, feeling helpless.

Nate finally appears and the two embrace. I step back and leave them to their goodbyes.

When I turn around, Steven is standing there. I throw my arms around him. “You changed my life,” I choke out between sobs.

“And you changed mine,” he replies. I look at him in amazement and gratitude, and my shoulders quake. He turns to allow others to embrace him, saying their own goodbyes.

“It’s time,” says the Angel of Death. Steven, Eli, Nick, and Max head to their coffins and lay down. Sinclair is weeping and clutching at Nate. Nate is attempting to extricate himself, but Sinclair refuses to let him go. “No!  _NO!_ ” he shrieks, grasping at Nate’s arm.

Nate seems just as calm as he was earlier in the main cabin, though his eyes are shining and wet. He holds Sinclair by the shoulders, looking into his eyes and speaking quietly and earnestly. He closes Sinclair’s fist around something and manages to take a step back. Finally, he turns and walks to his coffin, his head held high like the Queen we all know he is.

Sinclair is inconsolable. “Wait!” His voice cracks as he pleads through his sobs, “Take me! Take me instead!” He has to be physically restrained by Ruben and Ike from throwing himself in Nate’s casket. The Angel of death simply bows their head in sorrow.

The Angel of Death finally speaks. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Eli.” I hear someone sniffling behind me. “We are gathered here to mourn the loss of Max.” The Angel pauses between each name, looking around at the mass of grief. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Steven.” I flash back to Steven’s speech last year. He really did change my life, and I am glad I had the courage to tell him. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Nick.” I blow my nose and hand my packet of tissues to whoever is standing besides me. I don’t even look to see who it is; we all need them. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Nate.” Sinclair cries out in anguish, falling to his knees. I and a few others try to help him up but he is inconsolable, crumpling to the ground in a heap of despair.

The Angel of Death’s voice seems to become even quieter as the final name is announced. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Howard.”

My eyes widen. Howard, the kitchen boy? I’d kissed him once, in jest, simply because I’d been enjoying making him blush. Pepper, Priest and I all had a laugh when he’d backed away in shock and then his junk fell through the leg of his tiny shorts. He’d been mortified. I would smile now at the memory, if I weren’t so miserable.

As the ritualistic sounds of “Just A Little Lovin” reaches my ears, I am crying so hard that I can barely breathe. There is an ache deep in my chest, and I am turning to hug whoever is closest to me.  _Is this what people mean when they refer to heartache?_  I wonder. Everyone around me is also seeking out friends and loved ones for solace. I am both comforting others and being comforted in turn. Santiago, Artie, Charlotte, Sinclair, Ike and Ruben, Terrence, Enrique, Claire… everyone I love who is still here: we all mourn together.

_Just a little lovin’  
_ _Early in the mornin’  
_ _Beats a cup of coffee  
_ _For starting off the day_

_Just a little lovin’  
_ _When the world is yawnin’  
_ _Makes you wake up feeling  
_ _Good things are coming your way_

_This old world  
_ _Wouldn’t be half as bad  
_ _It wouldn’t be half as sad  
_ _If each and everybody in it had, yeah_

_Just a little lovin’  
_ _Early in the mornin’  
_ _That little extra somethin’  
_ _To kinda see them through_

_Nothing turns the day on  
_ _Really gets it dawnin’  
_ _Like a little bit of lovin’  
_ _From some lovin’ someone like you_

_This old world  
_ _Wouldn’t be half as bad  
_ _It wouldn’t be half as sad  
_ _If each and everybody in it had_

_Just a little lovin’  
_ _Early in the mornin’  
_ _(Just a little lovin’)  
_ _(When the world is yawnin’)  
_ _Just a little bit of lovin’, ah  
_ _Oh, in the morning  
_ _Nothing turns the day on  
_ _Really gets it dawnin’  
_ _Make a little bit of lovin’  
_ _It’s so good, it’s so good_


	45. Debrief: Post-Game

Every day, we had a chance to talk in smaller groups about what was happening with our characters. Two to three core groups would get together, and an organizer would ask leading questions like, “What was an impactful moment for your character? What is a scene that will stay with you?” The way we started each debrief session was to go around in a circle and re-introduce ourselves to each other: “I  _was_ playing Katherine, and  _now_ I am Melissa.” At first, I thought it was just so that we could learn each other’s real names. But I realized later that it was two-fold: it allowed us to separate our real selves from our characters. One moment that stand out to me is in the last moment of the game, seconds after Act 3 ended: I heard Luke reassuring himself aloud, “It’s not real. It’s just a game.” followed by, “I  _was_ playing Sinclair, and  _now_ I am Luke.” I hadn’t realized until that moment just how important that ritual was, to help separate ourselves and our own emotions from the fictitious world in which we’d played.

Another way in which I have separated my character from myself is to stop speaking in the first person when talking about Katherine. It’s difficult when I am speaking to someone and narrating things that I said and did, but at least in my writing, I have been able to switch from saying things like, “So then I went over to the Pillow Room and…” to instead saying, “So then Katherine went over to the Pillow Room and…”

We all did one big debrief activity together. We stood in a circle and, one by one, we removed an item that was either given to us in game, or represented our character in some way. Then we stepped into the center of the circle and symbolically dropped it. At breakfast that morning, Mr T had given me one of his rings, so I was able to remove that. I was grateful, because I hadn’t worn any of my own jewelry to breakfast – the only thing I could have removed would have been my shoes, and that would not have felt as symbolic – especially since they are shoes that I have worn in my “regular” life.

After the game was over, I started carrying my cell phone around with me again. I didn’t have any cell service, but I was using the Notes app to write down little notes of thoughts I was having that I might want to expand on later. (I ended up doing this for about week after I got home as well, before I was ready to sit down and start writing and really processing.) I wrote this down on Friday afternoon: “Processing has been really hard. I started to realize while still in-game how much of Melissa I’d injected into Katherine, but it wasn’t until afterwards that I realized how much Katherine had bled out into Melissa.”

After the group debrief, we had some brief time to ourselves, and then we had some guest speakers. The first was Chris, the person who played Bruce. Chris told us that he is almost 70 years old, gay, and that he lived in NYC during the time period that we had just played. He told us stories about his lovers, his experience in caring for someone with AIDS, and what it was like to be living in NYC during this time. When someone asked how true to the time history we had been in our game, he said that the way our story played out is pretty close to how things really were.

The second speaker was a man from the [University of Minnesota Youth and AIDS Project](http://www.yapmn.com/), or YAP. He talked to us about being young, HIV+, and homeless, about how many people think of HIV and AIDS as “past” problem even though it’s still very much prevalent today, and about [pre-exposure prophylaxis](https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/risk/prep/index.html), or PrEP.

After our guest speakers, we had a few hours of free time before dinner. We were also asked to start packing and helping to break down the camp, as we were going to be headed out pretty early on Saturday morning. I remember walking around in a daze, feeling completely disconnected. One of my notes says, “In the last three days, I have literally lived an entire life.” I’ve felt very alone in my life before, but this was different in a way that I don’t really know how to describe. I felt as though I were with a group of complete strangers – because I  _was_. I was still at the campground with all of the people I’d played with, so I had no anchor to the “real” world. But at the same time, all of the friendships and close-knit relationships that I’d built over the past few days had suddenly dissipated, because those people weren’t real. It was very disorienting, and extremely unpleasant. I didn’t know how to act around anyone anymore. In-game, I knew that almost anything I did would be accepted. Fuck-ups and acting crazy are  _good_ , for the good of the game, because they cause Feelings, and that is the reason we’re here – to feel things. But this was real life, and it felt less safe.

One of the strangest feelings for me was not knowing how to self-care. As a person who has struggled with depression for my entire life, I’ve figured out some coping skills that work for me. This is the first time I can remember  _not knowing_ what to do to help myself. I can usually figure out if I need to take a walk, or do some writing… to face the feelings head on, or to distract myself somehow. Sometimes I need to just go somewhere private and have a good, long cry. But none of those things felt right. I actually  _did_ feel a bit like crying, but it was a strange feeling that I’ve had in the past: feeling like I’m about to burst into tears, but also knowing that if I tried, no tears would actually come. It was a lump in my throat and a pounding heart, without the catharsis of the cry.

After I ate dinner, I had walked over to the stream and sat there for a while, watching the water, and hoping that the anxiety I was feeling would diminish. I figured that after I’d gotten some fresh air and fresh perspective, I could go back inside and start socializing again. I even stood up to go back in, glanced over to the main lodge where everyone else was inside chattering excitedly, and thought, “NOPE.” Everyone seemed to be deep in conversation, and I either didn’t feel totally comfortable with them, or didn’t want to interrupt their conversations. A note that I took in that moment was, “The thought of going back inside the mess hall feels stifling.”

I was wracking my brain, asking myself, “What makes me feel better when I’m anxious?” And then it hit me: cleaning! I’d mentioned earlier to a friend how I’d felt anxious on that first day when we arrived and got off the bus, and how I’d stood off to the side by myself. They confided that they’d felt similar, and that’s why they’d rushed to get their room assignment so quickly – they’d wanted something they could  _do_. I knew that we had to break down the camp anyway, so while the others were still hanging out eating and chatting, I went over to the Dark Room and started untying things from the walls, collecting the sex toys and safer sex supplies into a pile, and removing the posters from the wall. It really did help, too. Having something to  _do_ always helps me feel better. (It’s why I often end up helping out with things at parties.) So, thank you, friend. I won’t call you out by name – your anxieties are  _your_ business – but I do want you to know that you consoled me without realizing that you were doing so. When a group of people walked in a little while later to clean up, they stopped and looked around in surprise to see that most of it was already done! (Side note: as a D/s submissive, I actually really enjoyed trying to get as much done by myself as I could, because I  _wanted_  people to walk in and be surprised when it was all finished!)

I had a  _lot_  more bleed from my in-game relationship with Santiago than I’d expected to. I suspect part of that is because we as players did a lot of cuddling and making out, so the relationship felt a lot more real than in any other game I’ve played. I am a very cuddly and clingy person in the real world, and that part of me certainly bled into Katherine. A huge portion of my game play involved Katherine’s “fairytale” romance with Santiago; I’d spent a lot of time with her. So once the game was over and Ashleigh returned to her real-life girlfriend (who was also a player in the game), I felt guilty about being jealous and wanting to spend more time with her. I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was bleed, or an actual crush on her. (I’d felt drawn to her when I first met her, before I even knew that she would be a major character for me.) And I felt awkward about all of the emotions I was having, so I chose not to say anything – at least, not right away. I recognized that bleed is a thing, and that  _all_ of my emotions were overwhelming me – especially after having stayed up so late the night before. One of the questions in our official debrief earlier had been, “What is one quality from your character that you wish to keep?” In the moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. But now I know: I wish that I had the confidence to be as open and honest about my feelings as Katherine was.

Later in the evening, when the after party started, I’d  _thought_  that I was feeling better. I was hanging out and chatting with people. Someone had brought a bottle of tequila, so I had a small shot before starting on the 3% alcoholic beers. Being a lightweight when it comes to drinking, I actually managed to keep my buzz for a while by drinking several beers in quick succession! I was dancing and having a good time when suddenly, my imposter syndrome came back.  _I don’t belong here._ I felt awkward, lonely, and insecure. While everyone else was at the main lodge for the party, I went back to the cabin so that I could sit by myself in the quiet for a few moments. I decided that I was finished drinking, and that I should go back to the party and drink some water, and try to make the best of it. In the end, I sat by myself outside near the bonfire, just quietly staring into the flames as the people around me conversed and laughed, feeling just as disassociated and lost and lonely as I had earlier. I ended up falling asleep out there, and when I woke a little while later, several other people had also sat near the fire. At that point I knew that I was both mentally and physically exhausted, so I went back to the Pillow Room to snuggle with some folks, and sleep.

I am a romantic. I am also extremely picky when it comes to my partners, so when I  _do_  find someone that I like, I tend to latch on to them. I think that is why I refused to give up Katherine and Santiago’s romance. As a player, I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize that aspect of the game for me. In Act 3, I asked some friends for help because I was feeling lost. I felt like Katherine’s story was pretty solid, and was at a loss for what she should do next. All of the suggestions were things I could do to throw a wrench into my relationship, and I rejected all of them. They would have been angsty for my character, which probably would have been great – after all, the point of the game is to Feel things – but I refused. I think that is why the third act was not as powerful as it could have been: I refused to give up what I so desperately want in real life, so I wouldn’t allow Katherine to, either.

Once I got home and was still feeling disassociated and disoriented, I got worried about myself. I’ve struggled with depression for as long as I can remember, even as a child. In the past, I’ve always done a combination of talk therapy and other natural ways to “cure” depression (exercising, eating more healthy foods, getting better sleep, etc). I’ve struggled though it enough times that I can tell when I’m starting to fall into another hole. This time, at the urging of one of my besties who has been doing incredibly well with their own meds, I decided to try taking antidepressants and see if they worked for me. When I left for JaLL, I’d only been on them for about two weeks, and knew that I was probably not feeling the full effects yet. So when I got home and still felt terrible for a few days, I struggled to recognize whether I was feeling major con-drop mixed with intense bleed, or a true depression. Trying to lift myself out of a depression when I’ve been feeling incredibly lonely, going into a fictitious world where the intensity of emotions is magnified, and then coming out of that world back to reality… it was like riding a roller coaster. (Pro-tip: I don’t like roller coasters.)

When I got home on Saturday, I dropped my suitcase and immediately went to sleep. That is very unlike me; even when I am exhausted I can usually manage to stay away for long enough to unwind a bit. When I woke up, I had a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. This often happens if/when I sleep too much, and when I am really depressed. I cried for a little while. Knowing that keeping busy makes me feel better, I unpacked my suitcase and took a shower. I cried some more in the shower. Even though I was home and back to my regular life, I was still feel disassociated. Nothing felt  _real_. When I asked Facebook for company, an old friend reached out, so I made plans to meet her for lunch. I put on a pretty dress that I know looks good on me, thinking that perhaps if I feel pretty, I’ll start to feel better and more like myself again. But I still felt like I was going to burst into tears at any given moment.

As soon as I left my apartment to go meet my friend, I started having second thoughts about going out. I suddenly did not feel like company at all. But I had already made the plans, and it was too late to cancel. I told myself that I would do some writing when I got home later that night, and try to do some more processing. In the end, I was really glad that I went out. I talked about JaLL a lot, explaining to my friend what it was and what it was like. Eventually, the conversation topics drifted, and we talked about other things. I hadn’t seen this friend in a long time, so it was really nice to catch up. After a few hours of walking in the sunshine and talking, I felt more like myself again. Of course, I couldn’t help jabbering on about JaLL again later – it was all I could think about for at  _least_ a few days!

About a week after the game, I was finally feeling more normal. (One of the notes I took was, “Time is the great healer, and all that jazz.”) I started writing this document, which helped a lot. So did reading other people’s stories. Those were almost like drugs, in fact – I wanted to hear everyone’s stories and points of view. It was fascinating to hear about the arcs of other characters and players that I had barely interacted with in the game, as well as the same stories from other people’s points of view! Someone had started a group chat on Facebook for anyone who wanted to join. Having that, being able to reach out and talk to people who were there with me and understood what I had gone through, was incredibly helpful. So was the Facebook group, where people were sharing their stories and their art, and discussing their experiences. Especially helpful was Rachael, one of my best friends, who had played Leon in the game. She was one of the characters that I didn’t cross paths with in my own game, so hearing her story was wonderful – but it was also just a lifesaver to have one of my besties to speak with about our experiences. Being able to converse with other players in the chat was immensely helpful, but it’s a wholly different experience when you can share that with someone you’re close with.

For some reason, I had a note to myself to “talk about your feelings re: saying ‘I love you’ and the intense love-feelings you had after commenting on Nancy’s FB post.” Looking at that now, I have no idea what FB post I was referring to! I do remember feeling intense friend-love feelings toward all of the people I’d played with, though. So, here are my feelings on love: Growing up, my family was not super open with our emotions. Both of my parents are now deceased, and one of my regrets is that I did not say “I love you” more freely to them. I am a lot more emotionally open now, as an adult, and I make sure to tell my nieces and nephew that I love them at least once each time I see them. It’s still hard to say it to my brothers, since we are not very close. But I feel it, and so I try to say it. It’s important to me that the people in my life that I love, hear me say so. I also try not to overdo it. I don’t want to say it so often that it loses its meaning. If I say “I love you” to someone, it’s because I truly do love them. I try not to throw the words around carelessly. Sure, I love chocolate, and I love Netflix, and I love baking. But saying “I love you” to a person is different.

So, there you have it. JaLL has been, hands down, the most intense gaming experience of my life. I loved it so much that I’m applying for the 2018 run in Finland! I’m so happy that I got this chance to play. Thank you to Rachael for talking me into going when I was on the fence, and to the organizers for making it happen.


	46. Player Thoughts

This is a collection of some of the thoughts I had about the game while playing:

At the beginning of the game, I was feeling nervous and not quite sure what I wanted to do. I latched on to the suggestion on my character sheet, which was, “A girl like you can’t be at a party like this without deciding on someone to flirt with and maybe hit on for the night. Who will it be? Somebody you know well or some interesting woman you have yet to get to know?” So, the first chance I got, Katherine tried to seduce someone. It worked more quickly and efficiently than I’d expected, so… I tried again. This is what helped build my character in my mind as a sexual huntress, as someone who loves a challenge, and as the lesbian seducer of straight women. As a player, I did not expect Katherine to actually succeed in seducing Evelyn, and I was so psyched when she did! I loved that Katherine developed a reputation amongst her friends that revolved around that. “Katherine always gets the straight girls!” And since she gloated a bunch about it afterwards, some other ladies tried to hit on Evelyn as well, but failed. That really amused me.

The part where Katherine accidentally introduces Sinclair to Nick, the editor of Out magazine, really  _was_  a mistake. I wasn’t thinking about it as a player; I was simply looking for ways to interact with more people. I was trying to get into character as a wealthy woman who knows all the “right” people, and completely forgot that Nick worked for Out Magazine. Oooooops.

Ashleigh, the person playing Santiago, had warned me in advance about the big fight she’d planned between her and Pen on the dance floor. We’d agreed prior that Katherine would chase after her, though I’m not sure we planned anything that happened after that. Some other stuff happened that prolonged the scene, though… enough time had passed that I had assumed it just wasn’t going to happen. So when it  _did_ happen, Katherine really  _was_  completely focused on hooking up with Dawn, and I as a player really  _was_  surprised when I heard Santiago shouting across the disco. And really  _did_  leave Dawn (played by Emily Care Boss) standing on the dance floor, holding a pink feather (with OOC apologies)!

A lot of the “surprises” in the game were real: when Abner walked in on Katherine and Santiago having sex, that was completely unplanned – as was the comically surprised look on his face! The line between fantasy and reality is fuzzy enough that it makes things like that work really well. Players might discuss certain scenes in advance if they want them to go in a certain direction, but for the most part, I think that most people were thinking on the fly and reacting to what other characters were doing.

I had no idea what the Lottery of Death was going to be like. As I mentioned previously, I’ve played “I Say A Little Prayer” before, so I’d assumed the process would be similar: that we’d know exactly how many people were going to die, and that their names would be pulled from a hat. So when ten names were called, I assumed that all ten of us were going to die. I really  _was_ the last name called, and I really was shocked. I remember walking out to the funeral site in silence, and being really upset with myself:  _I shouldn’t have put my name in three times; I should have only put it in twice like Ashleigh told me to._  And then I thought,  _if Katherine were a real person, she would also be having regrets about the decisions she’d made in her life._  Most people don’t get choose when they die, and you can’t change the past: there is only regret, and focusing on the future. I took my regret and the other emotions I was feeling as a player, and turned them into Katherine.  _Melissa_ didn’t regret putting her name in the hat three times;  _Katherine_ regretted the risky behavior that led to her death.  _Melissa_ wasn’t sad because she was enjoying playing this character;  _Katherine_ was sad because her life was about to end.

I had no idea that not all ten of us were to going to die. When we approached the funeral site and only saw five coffins, I figured there just weren’t enough for all of us, logistically. But then only five people were told to lay down. After a few moments, three of those five people were told to get back up, and they’d been infected with AIDS but didn’t know it. Katherine was not one of those five names. I still wasn’t completely sure that Katherine was still alive until the rest of the players were led out to the funeral site. (I even had to clarify with an organizer later; being called meant that sometime between July and December of 1982, my character had a near-death experience. It was my decision as a player what that would be.) I remember being in shock, and relieved that I wasn’t dead.

Katherine having a near-death experience gave me the opportunity to have that black box scene where she had pneumonia. This was to help solidify some of the relationships that I was feeling a little lost with; specifically, with Katherine’s little brother Artie. Artie hadn’t been around for Act 1: when Simon and Leon died at the end of Act 1, those players were given new characters to play for the rest of the game. Katherine and Artie were supposed to have been very close growing up – but since he was a brand new character, I was feeling pretty disconnected, and figured this was a good way for Katherine to connect with that character. It was really interesting for me to be there but not really be participating in the scene, and to see how the other characters interacted  _around_ me.

Act 2 is what I titled in my head  as “Fuck The Pain Away.” At first I wasn’t sure how Katherine would have acted with the spread of the disease, especially since she wasn’t friends with either of the men who’d died in Act 1. So I decided that she was scared, but didn’t show it, and that she’d become even more reckless than she’d been before just to try and prove how “not scared” she was. This translated into lots of booze, and lots of fucking. Katherine’s three main reality checks in Act 2 were Santiago chastising her after she’d had unprotected sex in the orgy with Kimberly, her conversation with Ruben about printing something in the Times, and Steven’s outburst about the luminaries.

Steven is a character that I didn’t really interact with much outside of that scene with the luminaries. But that scene had a huge impact on Katherine: it was just after Santiago chastises her, and after her promise to Ruben that she’ll do something to help educate people by printing an article in the paper. The wheels of change are starting to turn in her head, and she is  _just_ starting to face her fears when Steven has his outburst. It’s a very memorable scene for me as a player.

Here’s a funny thing that stands out to me: During Katherine’s conversation with Ike in Act 2 when Chain is looking for Sinclair, I accidentally said something about Sinclair needing to “text his wife.” It didn’t even dawn on me until the next day when I was describing the scene to another player: it’s 1983; there  _is_  no texting! I mentioned it to Rachel later, who played Ike. She said that she’d noticed but didn’t want to call me out on it. I was so into the game play that exactly what I’d said didn’t even dawn on me until it got pointed out to me later, and it still makes me laugh!

When Chain said the line about Ike not being able to defend his boyfriend, that scuffling sound was real – I can imagine Mo, who played Ruben, scrambling off the cot to come out and confront Chain. It was so… real.

The American Flag stickers in Act 3 were real – the organizers had meant to use them but forgot, I guess? Anyway, I asked if I could have some, and when I started giving them out to people, it was just to be silly. There were two kinds: stars, and the shape of the US. When Katherine approached someone who she expected was especially sad, she gave them a “special” sticker to make them feel better. Later, Rachael asked if I was purposely marking people who’d tested positive for AIDS, and I was horrified. No! But much later I realized… yes? Though, not on purpose. Ooops. (Making sure that  _everyone_  got a star sort of worked it’s way into the engagement speech after I’d started giving them out, and then I really liked the idea.)

I was surprised at how nervous I was before Katherine’s proposal to Santiago. Ashleigh and I had already talked about it as players, so I already knew that Santiago was going to say yes. It’s not like I have anxiety over being the center of attention; I do the announcements at Friday Night Blues all the time, and I generally don’t have problems with public speaking. But my hands were literally shaking, and I really did get nauseous as soon as I took a bite of my dinner. I guess I was really into the game. Talk about bleed…!

I enjoyed telling Max off later, after Santiago attacked him. It was a spur of the moment plan on my part, but it was effective. At that point, Katherine was already thinking of Saratoga as a sanctuary, and “not here” kept echoing throughout her mind when people broke into fights. It was supposed to be a place of peace and love and, hopefully, of healing. So to ensure no more fighting, she used her words to intimidate Max. His reaction made me feel really powerful. I know that the words Katherine used were really harsh, and there was a bit of a rush in being able to do that, because in real life, I would never speak like that to someone.

In the later part of Act 3, I felt like Katherine’s story was pretty solid, and found myself at a loss for what to do. This is where she became more of a caretaker for her friends, and I think this was somewhat of a mistake.  _Melissa_ is a caretaker, not Katherine. I think I allowed a little bit too much of Melissa to bleed into Katherine. It turned out just fine, but in hindsight, I could have played that a lot differently.

The sex foursome in Act 3 was an accident! Very late in the night, just before bed, the players were chatting out of character. I managed to talk people into coming with me to sleep and snuggle in the Pillow Room. We spent the night there out of character, but were awoken by the person playing Fernando, who was  _in_  character. At that point, we all shrugged and said, “welp, I guess this really happened, then!” So that whole scene I wrote about with Mr T is a fabrication; I actually hung out and snuggled/chatted with those  _players_  all night. Accidental orgy FTW?

Mr T  _did_  give me a ring in the morning before the last funeral scene. I was grateful to have it – if Mr T had died, it would have wrecked me even more. I was especially grateful for it during our debrief, because we were each told to remove an item that was given to us in-game, or an article of clothing that made us our character. The ring was the only thing I had to remove!

The third Lottery of Death was really unnerving. I thought I knew what was going to happen, so when things changed, I was confused in addition to being sad and scared. The realization of “I care about so many of these people” was real. And that funeral was just… egads. I’ve never cried so hard in a game before.


	47. Other Characters’ Stories

If you are interested in reading more about the experiences of some of the other characters/players from this run, check out these write-ups written by other players*:

  * [Angel of Death](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854485/chapters/27767913)
  * [Howard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11854485?view_full_work=true)
  * [Kim](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12pogiNzgdqMG5-hzW2nA2KmnO7ct77wUwmLOgYphrV4/edit?usp=sharing)
  * [Kimberly](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1b0h7zKAgk7ylSIXmpH7i1aEOgeoM9i-TFXCGFjA3qtA/edit)
  * [Leon](https://discoleon.wordpress.com/)
  * [Steven](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxA_iZt8-1XKY3pSTkNiazE4b1k/view?ts=59a2fd15)
  * [Steven: a letter to Bret](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nnSNdeRjkmmamSrmqJo67CvGAZvHpDgf2iHbMTggBFM/edit)



 

_* Links published with permission by the authors._


	48. Interested in Playing?

JaLL has been run twice in Norway, and in Sweden, Denmark, and the US (MN). In 2018, there will be a new run in Finland. You can register for it here.

If you are interested in playing other games, check out some of these gaming conventions:

  * [Double Exposure](https://www.dexposure.com/) (DexCon, Dreamation, Metatopia)
  * [Fastaval](https://www.fastaval.dk/?lang=en)
  * [Intercon](http://www.interactiveliterature.org/NEIL/)
  * [Knutepunkt](https://knutpunkt.se/)




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